


Finders, Keepers

by sydiy5bea



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: A new way of starting it, Alternate Universe, F/M, I don't like to diverge from canon, Lots and lots of abuse, but here i am, but there's fluff too, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 26,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydiy5bea/pseuds/sydiy5bea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tragedy strikes the Drake family, leaving it's youngest members to fend for themselves. But not for long...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Medias Res

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I've had this idea for a while, and I finally got the nerve to post it. Again, I'm not usually one for AU's, but I really like what I have so far.

~Victor Sullivan~

I sigh and rub my eyes tiredly. This conversation with the city branch has gone on for an hour already, and we haven't even gotten to the important part yet. I check my watch. 2:16. AM, mind you. "I hope I'm getting overtime for this," I grumble to myself.

I startle at the soft knocking on the door frame of my office. One of the new officers stands in the doorway, nervously playing with the ring of keys on his belt. "Uh, Officer Sullivan?" he whispers, noticing that I'm on the phone.

I motion towards the phone laying on my desk, then shoo him away. I don't have time to answer any questions.

"But sir, it's an emergency!" he blurts out.

I glare at the red faced man as the sergeant asks, "What was that, Sullivan?"

"Uh, nothing, sir," I answer quickly. The sergeant can be a bit hot tempered. It's better to not piss him off this late at night.

"You sure? It sounds like there's a problem."

"No, there's no problems here, sir."

"I'll give you ten minutes to get it resolved, then I want you back on the line. That clear?"

"Yes, sir. Crystal."

"Good."

There's a click, then I turn my chair to face the door. "What?" I ask, not even attempting to hide my irritation. If I lose this opportunity to ask for better funding, I will-

"It's about your son, sir."

My mind halts. "Son" and "emergency" don't mix well. "What happened?"

"We found him during the aftermath of a gang war. He was on the ground... with a bullet in his side."

My mouth dries up. I can barely croak out, "Which son?"

"The little one."

"No, no, you must be wrong. See, Sam's the one involved in all that. He's the older one. He's the one who got shot."

"No, sir. It was the younger one."

"You're wrong." He has to be wrong.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're very sure it's the younger one."

"No, it can't be. He's just a... He's just..." Oh no. Oh no no no. This can't be happening. Nate...


	2. 10 Years Earlier

~Nathan Drake~

Sam slams the door to our room. “Oh man, oh man, oh man…” he mutters as he paces back and forth between our beds.

“Sam, we have to do something,” I say, pressing my ear against the door, trying to hear.

“What are we gonna do? Dad could go through both of us using only his thumbs.”

I get down onto my belly and peer through the crack under the door. I hear the sound of flesh on flesh and Mom screams. “Mommy!” I call out.

Sam grabs me around the waist and pulls me unto my bed. “Shut up! Do you want him to come in here and hit us?”

“Well, no, but—“

“But nothing, Nathan. Trust me, if I could do anything, I would.”

I look up at him with narrowed eyes, then turn away from him with crossed arms. “Scaredy cat,” I say under my breath.

Sam grabs my shoulders and forces me to face him. “What did you call me?”

“I called you a SCAREDY CAT!” I scream into his face. “Sure, I’m scared of Dad too, but I’m going to save Mom. You can stay here and hide like a baby if you want.”

I lower myself off the bed and run to the door. I quickly realize my quest is frugal. No matter how high I reach or jump, the doorknob is too high off the ground. “Come on, Nathan, it’s no good. Let’s read a book.” I flinch at the sound of glass shattering. Sam quickly reaches under my arms and carries me back to my bed. “Maybe we should read under the covers to muffle the sound,” he says, taking a seat next to me.

“What does muffle mean?” I ask, scooting closer. He’s already picked out my favorite book: Stories from Around the World. It was a gift from Mom for my first birthday. It’s filled with a bunch of stories ranging from “Aesop’s Fables” to Greek myths to “Paddington Bear”. Sam's read through them all dozens of times to me, but they still hold the same excitement as when I first heard them.

“Muffle,” Sam answers, “means to make sound go away.”

“How does the blanket do that?”

“It, uh… It becomes like a wall.”

“But how is it still soft?”

“Just listen to the story.” Sam looks annoyed, so I decide not to press the issue. “Okay, this one’s called ‘The Three Languages’. It’s from Italy. ‘Once upon a time…’” 

I lean my head onto his chest and take a deep breath. I close my eyes, trying to hear only Sam’s voice. Eventually, everything fades away as I fall asleep.

My sleep is never peaceful, however, and I inevitably wake in the middle of the night, screaming. “Mommy!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart,” Mom whisper yells from across the hall. She has to be quiet when Dad is sleeping just like us.

She finds me wrapped up in my blanket so that only my face shows. I can feel the hot tears streaming down my face as she sits on the edge of my bed. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now. Shh...” she croons, cradling me close and stroking my back. 

I eventually calm down to the point where I can quietly ask, “Sing, Mommy?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sam perk up in his bed and I know he wants to hear a song, too.

“Okay, Nate. Ready?” I nod. “Alright.” She takes a deep breath and starts singing my favorite lullaby. I hum along, and I even catch Sam mouthing the words. 

Once she's done, Mom lays my head on my pillow and covers me. She leans down to kiss me on the forehead, and I ask, “Mommy, did Daddy hurt you?”

She thinks long and hard before answering. “Yes, but I’m okay, baby. You don’t have to worry about me. Now, try to get—“

“Is he gonna hurt us?” Sam whispers, eyes wide and gleaming in the dark.

“Uh… Boys, you’re going to have to be careful around your father now. He’s—well…” She pauses, trying to find the right words. “He’s explosive. You never know how he’s going to react. Just be on your best behavior, okay?”

“Okay, Mom,” we say in unison.

“Alright, get some sleep.” She kisses me on the cheek, then walks over to Sam and tries to kiss him as well, but he jerks away.

“Mo-om,” he groans.

“Sorry, I forgot you’re a big boy now.” She still manages to pull his blanket a bit higher. “Goodnight, boys,” she whispers as she closes the door.


	3. Tragedy

~Cassandra Drake~

I close the boys' door and take a deep breath before walking back into my room. I open the door and tiptoe back to the bed. If I’m lucky, John will be asleep. My heart sinks when he says, “What took you so long, Cassandra?”

“Nate needed a lullaby,” I explain.

“A lullaby?”

“He’s only two, John.”

He huffs and rolls over to face me. “We can talk about this later. Now, let’s…” John comes closer to me and kisses me.

I pull back. “John, I’m tired. Let’s just sleep.”

“No, no, no. I’m the man of this house, I make the decisions. If I want to have sex with my wife, I’m going to have sex with my wife. Get on your back.” He rolls me onto my back and kisses me more forcefully. He pins my arms above my head to reduce the risk of me resisting. I pray he doesn’t notice the tears on my cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I close the door behind John. He just left for work. I slide my back down the wall, covering my face. I can’t do this anymore. My heart breaks listening to Sam and Nate playing in the next room. Leaving John means leaving them with him, but... I just can't do it any longer.

I walk into the living room and just watch them for a few minutes. They sit across from each other on the floor, playing with the action figure I gave them this past Christmas. I’m surprised they haven’t started fighting over it yet. Maybe they understand how precious the gift is. It cost me a fortune. I still haven’t told John how much it cost. He would kill me. Nate eventually spots me and smiles, bearing what few baby teeth he possesses. “Hi, Mommy.”

“Hey, boys. Do you need anything?” I ask.

“I’m hungry,” Sam says.

“There’s leftovers in the fridge, sweetie.” Sam gets up and runs into the kitchen. I take a deep breath and walk over to Nate. Crouching down next to him, I whisper, “Nate, no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

He laughs and hugs me. “I wuv you, too.”

I almost start crying. “You are so sweet. Never change.” I kiss him on the forehead and head into the kitchen. Sam is eating straight out of the fridge. “Really Sam?”

“What? I’m hungry,” he says with food in his mouth.

I take the plate from him and put it in the microwave. It dings and I place the food on the table. “Please at least act like you’re civilized.”

“Okay, Mom.” He shovels a fork full of chicken into his mouth.

“And one more thing.” I give him a big hug. “Take care of your brother.”

He frowns. “That was random.”

“I know. I just wanted to say it before I forgot. Now, I’m going to take a nap.” I get up to leave the room, and turn around to say “I love you” before I’m out of his auditory range.

My room is dark after I close the door. I didn’t open the curtains this morning, but sunlight pokes through the thin crack, illuminating dust particles waltzing through the air. I don’t make a sound as I climb on top of the dresser to grab John’s one prized possession. The metal is cold at first touch, but it’s slowly warming in my sweaty grasp. I can almost feel John’s heavy hands leaving smarting, purple patches on me just for touching it. The bed springs squeak their protest as I lay over the neatly tucked sheets. I place the barrel under my chin and almost smile. It’s done. It’s over. I’m free.


	4. The Moustached Man

~Samuel Drake~

A large bang comes from the other room. The noise seems to reverberate through the walls, the floor, and the table. “Mom?” I call. No answer. I get up and go into the living room to ask Nathan. “What was that noise?”

“I don’t know,” he says, sticking his fingers in his mouth.

“Hey, don’t touch Superman with your slimy fingers.”

“I wasn’t, honest.”

“Yeah, right,” I swipe it off the ground and use my shirt to clean it. “Nathan, do you know how much this is worth?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s worth a lot, so don’t ruin it.”

“I wasn’t ruin-in-ing it! Sam, you always blame me for everything. It’s not fair.”

“I’m older, so I get to tell you what to do. Now, let’s go finish that book we were reading.” I jump onto the couch to grab the book. Nathan reluctantly joins me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sam, I'm hungry," Nathan yawns, stretching his arms over his head.

I check the clock on the wall and confirm that it is in fact almost 7:00 pm. Dad usually comes home around 8:15. "Yeah, me too. We'll just wait for Dad to get home."

"But I want it now!" he whines.

"Okay, okay, let's go find Mom." I jump off first then help him off the couch.

I head down the hall, Nathan's faithful footsteps following me. I knock on Mom’s door. No answer. I frown and try again. She couldn’t still be asleep. It's been hours since she laid down for her nap. “Mom?” Still, nothing. I turn to Nathan. “You call her. She might answer if you ask.”

He knocks on the door. “Mommy?” When she doesn’t say anything, he shrugs. “Maybe she was weally tired?” I try to twist the knob, but Nathan swats my hand away. “No, stop! Dad said—“

“Relax, butthead. It’s locked. We’ll just have to wait. Come on, let’s go read some more.”

“Stop calling me names. Mom said that’s mean.”

“Ugh, you’re sure such a baby.”

Right around 8:15, Dad's car is rumbling in the driveway. The first thing he asks for is dinner when he walks past us into the kitchen. We have no answer and this seems to anger him. He pushes us out of the way, and he walks rather loudly to his and Mom’s room. “Cassandra, open up.” Nothing. “Cassandra, now!” Something must be wrong if she doesn’t answer to his demands. He’s terrifying when he gets like this. Dad grabs a key from the top of the doorframe and unlocks the door. “Cassandra, you’d better have a good reason for—“ He stops in his tracks after glancing at the bed. “Holy shit…”

Nathan and I exchange a look when he collapses by Mom’s side. I tiptoe into the room and peer around Dad’s shoulder. Mom’s pillow is stained cherry red. I get closer and realize where the stain came from. “No, no, no…” I mutter, freezing in place.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” Nathan asks. When I don’t answer, he timidly walks behind me. He’s too short to see Mom from this angle. “What’s wrong?” he repeats.

I push Nathan out of the room. “Stay here.”

“No, I wanna see.”

“No, you don’t wanna see. Trust me.” I re-enter the room and Dad whispers something to me. “What?”

“Call 911!” he yells.

“Okay.” I run out of the room, pushing past Nathan as I go. I grab the phone and dial.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Uh, my mom isn’t waking up.”

“Is she breathing?”

“No.”

“Okay, what’s your address?”

We finish our conversation and run back to Mom’s room. My stomach drops when I see Nathan standing next to the bed. Dad’s totally ignoring him and staring into space. “Mommy?” Nathan touches her hand and looks seriously confused when she doesn’t respond. He looks up at me with his big, innocent doe eyes, too young to comprehend the scene unfolding in front of him. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“I told you not to come in here. Come on.” I grab his hand to try leading him out of the room, but he pulls free and runs back to Mom.

“Mommy, wake up.” His face is turning red. He must be scared.

“Nathan, let’s go outside. We can talk about it out there.” He just nods and sticks his fingers in his mouth. I don’t yell at him this time because I’m afraid he’ll start crying. “The doctors are coming. They’ll know what to do.”

“Is Mommy gonna be okay?”

“Uh… I think so.”

He takes a deep breath. “Sam, I’m scared.” His lip starts quivering and little whimpers begin to leak out.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me.” Tears drip, but he obediently makes eye contact. “You’ve gotta stay strong, alright? We’re gonna make it through this together.”

Sirens wail out front. An urgent knocking comes from the front door. I press the handle down and the man on the other side forcefully swings it open. The moustached man gives me and Nathan a funny look, then asks, “Where’s your mother?”

“In the other room.”

“Can you lead me there?”

“Yeah, this way.” I sprint down the hall with the guy right on my heels. He almost trips over Nathan. “She’s right here.”

“Thanks, son.” He turns to Dad. “May I have a look, sir?” Dad mumbles something inaudible from where I’m standing, then the man starts examining Mom. He presses a button on his radio and talks into it using a bunch of medical jargon. Not thirty seconds later, two more men with a gurney show up. They lift Mom up and lay her gently onto the padded surface. The moustached man who knocked on the door pulls me and Nathan aside. “I need to ask you boys some questions. We’ll start with you.” He points to me, but I shake my head no.

“We do this together or not at all.” I throw an arm around my little brother protectively. I do it for his sake… and maybe my own as well.

The man thinks for a second, then nods in agreement. “Okay, we can work with that. Let’s head out to the kitchen table.”

Nate squeezes himself next to me as the guy flips his seat around to sit with the back of the chair against his chest. Nate cocks his head to the side and asks, “Why are you sitting backwards?”

“Because it’s more comfortable. Now, it's my turn to ask the questions. When was the last time you saw your mother?”

“On the rolly bed,” Nate says, referencing the gurney.

“No, I mean the last time you saw her… walking around.”

“She made me some food,” I answer.

“Do you remember what time it was?”

“Uh… No.”

“That’s okay. Did she say anything before she left?”

“She said to take care of Nathan. It was really random. Then she said she was going to take a nap in her room.”

“Mom told me she wuved me,” Nathan adds in.

“Did you hear any weird noises after she left?” he asks, giving a small smile to Nathan. Moustache must think he’s cute. Everyone thinks he's cute.

“Yeah, there was a big boom,” I say. Nathan makes an explosion noise and demonstrates something blowing up with his hands.

“Where was your father during all of this?”

“Dad was at work," I answer.

“Ah, I see…” He makes a few notes in a folder, then folds it up. “Okay, boys, you’re good to go.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Nathan asks. I take his hand into mine for moral support.

“We’re taking your mom to the hospital, son. We’re going to look her over one more time before releasing her to the coroner.”

“What’s a cor-nor?”

“Uh…” The guy actually looks uncomfortable. “He takes care of dead bodies.”

“Dead bodies? But Mommy’s not dead. She’s gonna come home from the hospital all fixed up.” Nathan glances up at me. “Right?”

The guilty look in the man’s eyes confirms my suspicions. “Nathan, Mom’s not coming home,” I whisper, looking at the floor.

I physically see the moment his little brain puts all the pieces together. He seems to deflate, as if the very notion of Mom dying has crushed his soul. A sob heaves its way out of his tiny body. “It’s not true,” he whimpers pitifully. I hug him fiercely. He’s an annoying little snot, but he's my little brother. It hurts me to see him like this. “Sam, tell me it’s not true.” I don’t say a word, my silence speaking volumes. I stroke his back, just like Mom would have done. “Mommy…” he weeps into my shirt.


	5. Entrance Exam

~Nathan Drake~

“Now, for the math section,” the monotonous voiced administrator drones. A week ago, it probably wouldn’t have bothered me much. But since Mom died four (or is it five?) days ago, nothing is as it was. The whole world is tinted with a bluish-black aura. I sigh and rest my head on my hand. Dad’s making me take this stupid test for… well, God knows why he’s making me take it. I hate him. “We’ll start with some simple addition. What is 4 + 3?”

“I don’t know.” I play with a fraying seam on my sleeve, yanking on a stray string.

“You don’t know?” the man chortles, sending waves through his multiple chins. “Son, this is an easy question. If you can’t answer this, you won’t be able to complete the rest of the test. You’ll fail.”

“What does it matter? Nothing matters. Me, you, and everyone else’s gonna die anyway. What does it matter? What does life matter? What does ‘matter’ even mean?”

He heaves a sigh and puts the papers in the folders. “You’re free to go, Nathan. Your father’s in the hallway.”

I slowly slide out of the chair and walk out the door, dragging my feet as I go. Dad sits to the left of the door. He stands as I exit that coffin of a room. “How’d it go, Mr. Hildary?” I don’t even warrant a casual downwards glance from him.

“Can I talk to you privately, Mr. Drake?”

“Of course.” Dad pushes past me into the testing room with the chunky monkey. I smile and giggle at the funny name, but gloom quickly dethrones joy. Oh, how I wish Mom was here. Her death will force me to spend more time with Dad and more time means more bruises. Just today, he gave me a beating for jumping on the couch, something Mom would let me do. He swore that he would give me one a hundred times worse if I breathed a word of his punishments to anyone.

Dad stays in the room for about 5 minutes. I entertain myself be unraveling a few more stitches on my sleeve. By the time Dad remerges, I have a small tear in my shirt. Oh, well.

“… in a few more years,” Mr. Hildery says, shaking Dad’s hand.

“Thank you for your time.” The look on his face can only be described as annoyance.

That doesn’t bode well for the trip home. “Come on, son.” I have to run to catch up with his long stride. As soon as the car door slams shut, he hits me upside the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I slouch down further into my seat and shrug. “What’s 4 + 3?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you retarded?” I shrug again. I don’t know what retarded means. “You failed the entrance exam, so now I have no one to take care of you while I’m at work. Damn…” He presses the palms of his hands against his eyelids. “Do you realize how much you screwed this up?”

“Dad, I didn’t mean it,” I whimper.

“Let’s just go home. I need to finalize plans for the funeral tomorrow.” My heart drops into my stomach at the thought of saying goodbye. Tears almost spill over onto my cheeks, but I hold it in. I’ll save them for my pillow tonight.

The house is quiet until Sam comes home from school. Even then, we don’t talk much. There’s no dinner again tonight, so Sam shares his lunch with me. He bought it at school and saved it to share with me for dinner. Sam and I are down to one meal a day. Our stomachs are constantly rumbling. The lack of calories combined with the weight of Mom’s death has put a damper on our usual quarreling. We go to bed without an incident. I wake in the middle of the night, crying, but I do it quietly so as not to disturb Sam or, more importantly, Dad. Who knows what he’d do if I woke him up.


	6. The Funeral

I straighten my tie in the bathroom mirror. Cassandra used to do it for me when we were first married and freshly in love. What changed?

“Dad, did I do this right?” I turn around and find Sam standing there with a black tie loosely tied around his neck.

“Here, son.” I bend down and retie it for him. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine, but I think Nathan’s having a hard time.”

“Where is he?”

“Our room. He won’t get dressed.”

I sigh and walk across the hall to the boys’ room. I push open the door and find Nate buried under the covers. “Nate, get a move on. We’re going to be late.”

“I’m not coming,” he says, voice stifled by the blanket. “And nothing you say or do to me will change my mind.”

“If you won’t come because I ask you to, you should come for your mother. She would have wanted you there.”

There is a pause as he thinks over my proposition. “Okay.” Nate emerges from his cocoon and begins getting dressed.

I reach out to button up his shirt and he flinches at my touch. After he sees I’m not trying to hurt him, he allows me to help with his tie. I hear sniffling, so I look up and see tears streaking down his face. “Oh, Nate. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No, it’s not. Mommy’s gone!” he wails. “Now I’m stuck with you!”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“You hurt me. Mommy would never hurt me.”

“I don’t do it to be mean. I do it to make you stronger.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be stronger!” He yanks himself from my grasp and darts out of the room. “Nate!” I call after him. No response. I step into the hallway and see Sam embracing his brother. I give them a few seconds, then I say, “Okay, let’s go.” We pile into the car and drive down to Saint Mathew’s Catholic Church. I find a parking spot, then unbuckle Nate from his car seat. He dutifully avoids eye contact.

“Is this where you and Mom got married?” Sam asks, craning his neck to gaze up at the bell tower.

“Yeah. It’s pretty, right?”

Sam nods solemnly, studying the stain glass windows.

I lead the boys into the church and we find a seat in the front row. There are many free seats, since Cassandra and I don’t—didn’t—know many people. Plus, all our extended family has either disowned us or have died. A few old friends come over to give their condolences. Sam carries on polite conversations, but Nate sits in stony silence, refusing to respond to anyone. Once Cassandra’s maid of honor is out of earshot, I turn to Nate. “Son, it’s rude to ignore people. Your mother would not approve of your behavior.”

“Well, Mom’s not here. She’s up there.” He points to the cherry wood coffin resting by the altar. His face is flushed with emotion and his eyes are filled with unshed tears. “I need to go!" he exclaims, then jumps off the pew and runs down the center aisle. I stand, prepared to pursue him, but someone’s already scooped him up. “Let go of me!” Nate yells, flailing his arms.

“Where do you think you’re going, little guy?” It takes me a few seconds to place his face, but I finally recognize him as the moustached policeman that responded to our 911 call.

“I’ll take him.” He hands Nate over to me. The boy must have tuckered himself out, because he allows me to hold him. “What brings you to our somber little party?”

“I go to all the funerals of people who have died on my calls.”

I hold out my freehand to shake his hand. “John Drake.”

“Victor Sullivan. And who’s this?” he asks, referencing the boy.

“This is Nate. Say hi to Mr. Sullivan, son.”

Nate lifts his head off my shoulder. “Hi, Sully.”

“No, it’s Mr. Sul-li-van,” I correct him.

“Sully’s fine,” he laughs.

“I’d rather him call you mister. It’s more polite.”

“He can call me whatever he wants,” he insists, smiling reassuringly at Nate. The boy gives a small smile that widens when Mr. Sullivan crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

“Looks like you two are going to be good friends,” I say, watching them interact with each other. “Uh, would you mind taking him for a walk? He’s a little upset about… the whole thing.”

“You trust me with your son?”

“Well, you’re a cop, right? Who’s more trustworthy than a cop?”

“Good point.” Mr. Sullivan looks uncomfortable with my proposition, but he glances at Nate. The kid must feel some sort of connection with Mr. Sullivan, because he leans forwards in my arms, trying to touch him. Something changes in the cop’s eyes. “I’ll take him," he says finally. "Come on, kiddo.” I hand my son to him and Nate happily attaches himself to Mr. Sullivan’s shoulder. “We’ll be back in time for the ceremony.”

I watch him walk out of the church with my boy. Nate turns to look back and waves. I almost change my mind and call them back, but I stop myself. Nate will be fine. Besides, some fresh air will do him some good. I reclaim my seat next to Sam. “Where’s Nate going?” he asks, turning in his seat to look down the aisle.

“He went for a walk. He’ll be back soon.”


	7. Saying Goodbye

I keep close watch over the boy. He walks on the edge of the curb, sticking his arms out for balance. I see a car coming, so I call him over. “Careful, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” he huffs indignantly, hopping off the curb to walk by my side.

“Doesn’t your dad call you that?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it. My name is Nate. I like to be called Nate.”

“Why don’t you tell him to stop?”

“Because.” He doesn’t elaborate, so I don’t ask him to.

“Water!” he says gleefully, running over to an abandoned parking lot. The rain from last night left behind a few puddles. He splashes his way through the little pools of water, laughing without a care in the world. I follow him, biting my tongue to prevent myself from stopping him. He’s going to get his nice pants and shoes all muddy, but he’s been through so much in the past week. I’ll let him have his fun. I look up at the sky and see grey-bottomed clouds gathering. It’s going to rain soon. I’ll give Nate five more minutes, then we’ll find some shade.

It only takes two minutes for thunder to roll in the distance. Nate stiffens and looks up at me with wide, frightened eyes. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“Gunshot,” he whispers, knees quaking.

“No, it’s just thunder.” Lightning flashes behind me and a crack of thunder vibrates through the air. Nate screams and covers his ears. “Come here, kid.” I lift him up and carry him to shade. Nate starts to cry, getting louder every time thunder booms. I don’t know what to do. I try swaying back and forth to calm him down. When that doesn’t work, I start talking to distract him from the storm. “Did you know there’s a way to track which way a storm’s going?”

He quiets down, curiosity getting the best of him. “How?”

“You count the seconds between lightning and thunder. If the time gets shorter, the storm is getting closer. If the time gets longer, the storm is getting farther away. You wanna try?” He nods, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Okay, let’s find some lightning…” We scan the sky for flashing veins of light.

Nate squeezes my shoulder. “There!” He points to what he found, but it’s already gone.

“Now, we count. One, two, three, four—“

BOOM

“Four!” Nate exclaims excitedly, fears momentarily forgotten.

“Yeah, that’s right. Next, we—“

“Look, more!” I watch the purple outline fade.

“One, two, three, four, five—“

CRACK

“Five!”

“So that means the storm is…?”

“Going away.”

“Very good. High five.” His whole hand fits in my palm when we slap them together.

He giggles. “I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“I like you more than Daddy.”

Startled, I ask, “Why?”

“I can’t tell you. You’re just better.”

“Okay then…” I glance at my watch. “It’s almost time for the ceremony, so we should head back to the church.”

“No! No going back.”

I sigh. “Why not?”

“I don’t wanna say goodbye,” he whispers.

“Well, it’s not necessarily goodbye. Do you believe in God?”

“Mommy does.” I notice he used the present tense.

“Okay, well, she’s not gone. She’s with the angels now. She’ll watch over you and make sure nothing bad ever happens to you.”

“Does she still wuv me?”

“Of course she does. Why wouldn’t she?”

“She left me. I must have done something wrong.”

“Nate, none of this is your fault. She said she loved you before she died, remember?”

Nate smiles as my conjecture starts coming together in his mind. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go back.”

We arrive just in time, and I deliver a happy Nate back to his family. Mr. Drake asks me to talk to him after the ceremony, and he’s not exactly the kind of person you say no to.


	8. The Sitter

~Nathan Drake~

Dad sits between me and Sam, probably to prevent us from talking/arguing. I barely pay any attention to the priest. I’m afraid I’ll start crying if I listen too closely. Soon, we all stand up and follow the casket outside into the rain. Thankfully, the thunder and lightning have subsided. After Mom is in the ground, guests start leaving one by one. Only Sam, Dad, and I are left. Well, us and my new friend. Dad and Sully start talking in low tones and Sam leans over and asks, “Who’s that guy?”

“That’s Sully. He’s my new friend.”

“Friends? With you?”

“Hey,” I exclaim, deeply offended. Sam stumbles backwards after I shove him.

“Boys,” Dad scolds. “Cut it out. I’m trying to have a conversation.”

“But Sam was—“

“Not making a fuss like you are. Do you want a timeout when we get home?”

Fear shoots through me. The way he said timeout makes it clear that his version of timeout does not necessarily mean sitting quietly in the corner. “No, Dad,” I mumble.

“He wasn’t making a fuss,” Sully says. “He was just defending himself.”

“See, this is why you’d make a good sitter,” Dad remarks. “You two get along well together.”

“He teached me to track storms,” I offer.

“Really?” Dad asks, surprised.

Sully nods. “Yeah, he’s a smart little guy.”

“Smart?” Sam laughs. “He can’t even do 4 + 3 .”

“That’s because no one’s taught him yet,” Sully says, looking very thoughtful. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “When do want me to pick him up?”

Triumph lights Dad’s eyes. “7:30. I leave at 7:45.”

“Okay, I’ll see you then.” Sully winks at me, then heads out of the cemetery.

The three of us stay by Mom’s grave for a few more minutes. Only the patter of drizzling rain breaks the silence. Dad eventually puts a hand on our backs to lead us out of the courtyard to the car. We get home, and Dad makes us bathe after standing in the rain all day. It’s exciting since we don’t get clean ourselves every day. Water’s expensive apparently.

I stand in the bathroom and Sam dries my hair with a towel. “Nathan, come here!” Dad calls from the other room.

Sam and I exchange a look, then I timidly walk to Dad in the washing room. “Yes, Dad?”

“Why are your pants all muddy?”

“It was raining.” My heart starts to beat faster.

“Sam’s aren’t this muddy. You were jumping in puddles again, weren’t you?” I don’t answer. I just freeze in place. “What did I tell you about that?” he sternly asks.

“Don’t do it.”

“So you were listening. Do you remember what the punishment is?”

I swallow hard and bite my lip. “The belt,” I rasp.

“That’s right. Maybe you do have a brain up there.” He grabs me by my shirt collar. My legs try to keep up as he drags me to his room. He dumps me onto the bed, and I shake uncontrollably as he unbuckles his belt and pulls it through the loops.


	9. The Castle

~Victor Sullivan~

I ring the doorbell then take a few steps back. My eyes take in the dilapidated exterior of the Drake household. It’s hard to believe anyone can live in these conditions, especially the boys. The door opens and Mr. Drake ushers me into the house. “Nate will just be a few seconds. He’s gathering his things.” As if on cue, Nate rounds the corner wearing an oversized backpack. “Do you have everything you need, son?” Nate nods. “Alright, go on outside with Mr. Sullivan.”

“I can take your bag for you.” I lift the backpack off his shoulders and sling it onto my back. It must weigh as much as Nate. “What all do you have in here? Rocks?”

“I put books in there,” he answers.

“You’re a bookworm, huh? I’ve got lots of books at my place.”

His eyes light up and he starts pulling me by the arm towards the door. Mr. Drake and I shake hands then I lead Nate to my car. I open the passenger door for him, but he just stares at me. “Mommy says I can’t sit up front. I’m too small.”

“Oh, right. You can sit in the back then.”

Still, he stares. “I need a car seat.”

“Okay…” I scrounge up a cardboard box from the trunk. I’ll buy a real car seat later this week. “Jump up, kiddo.” I strap him in then take my seat behind the wheel. Backing out of the driveway, I ask, “Do you want to listen to the radio?”

He shrugs. “We don’t usually listen to the radio. Dad says he gets headaches.”

“Ah, I see. What kind of music do you like?”

“Moosicals. Mommy has a CD.”

“I don’t think there’s a musical station, but bring your CD tomorrow so we can listen.”

“I can’t, Sully. It’s not mine. It’s Mommy’s.”

Oh, boy. “Nate, let me explain something to you. Your mother… She—she doesn’t own anything anymore. She’s in heaven, remember?”

“Oh.” Clouds pass over his countenance. Maybe reminding him that his mother’s gone is not the right way to start off the day.

“Let’s just listen to my favorite station: 105.7.” It’s a 70’s station. Abba’s “Dancing Queen” starts playing. I glance back at Nate in the review mirror. He crinkles his nose in distaste. “You don’t like it?” I ask.

“It’s not good.”

“Not good? Are you deaf? This song defined a generation. It—It’s a classic.”

“What’s a deaf?”

I sigh. “Never mind. Maybe you’ll like some of the songs I have on my CD.” I tap a few buttons on the entertainment console and the song changes to the opening bars of “Summer Nights” from Grease.

I watch Nate bob his head along with the music. He smiles when the rest of the cast starts singing. “So Grease is more your style, huh?”

He giggles. “It’s funny.” By the third refrain, he’s already singing along to the uh well-a well-a huh part.

A few minutes later, I pull the car into my parking spot. “Well, here we are,” I say, pulling up on the parking brake.

“No way!” Nate twists in his seat to pear out the window at the apartment building. “You live here?”

“Yup. It’s not much, but something’s better than nothing.”

“It’s weally big! Is it a castle?”

“No, bud, it’s an apartment complex. I only own a little part of it.” I unstrap him help him step down from the car. Nate waits patiently for me to get his backpack. I hold out my hand, and he automatically latches onto my fingers.

I lead him into the lobby. Nate’s head snaps around, soaking in his new surroundings with his mouth ajar. He tugs on my pant leg and whispers, “Sully, do you have a butler?”

“No, I don’t have any servants.”

His brow furrows. “I thought you were rich.”

“Huh? What gave you that impression?” Nate shrugs. “Sorry to disappoint you, kid.”

“It’s okay. I still like you.”

“Phew, what a relief.” I pretend to wipe sweat off my forehead and make my way to the elevator.

The elevator dings as we reach the sixth floor, and Nate yells, “Again!”

“Sorry, it’s a one time thing. Don’t you want to see my apartment?”

“Yeah, parchment!”

I smile and find my keys. Unlocking the door, I say, “Home sweet home.”

His eyebrows almost shoot up off his face. “Wow, look at that TV! It’s so big and shiny.” He runs up to it with his tiny hands reaching for the screen, but something else grabs his attention. “Plant! Oh, cushions! Fuzzy rug! Pretty pictures!” Nate continues to run around the room poking things. He collapses on the spongy, green rug with a Cheshire smile. “This is the coolest house on the whole entire Earth!”

I squat down next to him. “You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment yet. Why don’t we take a tour and then you can decide if this is the coolest house on Earth.”

“Okay.” He grabs onto my forearm and hangs on as I pull him to his feet. Once he’s up, he takes off towards the kitchen. He opens a low cabinet and starts rooting through it, looking for food presumably. It occurs to me that he probably hasn’t eaten yet.

“You hungry, Nate?”

“Um…” His stomach interrupts him with a deep growl. “Sorta.”

“Well, I don’t have much food ‘cause I usually order in, but I think I have some crackers or something somewhere…” I search the pantry. It’s a barren wasteland. I thought I saw a tumbleweed blow across the shelf, but nevertheless, I find a few granola bars. “Here. Bon appetite.”

“Yummy.”

“Eat up, kid.” I finally get a chance to study his figure and, damn, he’s tiny. Sure, he has a lithe frame, but there is no meat on his bones. Hunger has robbed him of the chubby cheeks that are so characteristic of his young age.

I blink away my musings when Nate holds up half of his bar to show me something. “Look, Sully. Chocolate chips.”

“Wow, would you look at that,” I say, examining it. I pretend to lick it, drawing giggles from Nate.

“That’s silly.” He pulls the bar from between my fingers and finishes it off. Once he’s done, I give him the royal tour, showing him the bathroom, my bedroom, and the guest room. The guest room doubles as the library. Nate stands in front of the bookcase, wide eyed and catching flies. “There must be a hundred million kagillion books.”

“I don’t know about all that, but there are a lot of books.”

Nate reaches out and removes the S volume of my encyclopedia collection. The gilded binding must have caught his eye. He drops it on the floor and sits with his back against U, V, and W. Opening to a random page, he immediately becomes infatuated with the pictures and the sheer amount of words. “This is a long story,” he observes, but he looks like he has no intent of getting up. “Shak… Shakieshperry…”

“Shakespeare, William. ‘The Bard’,” I say, joining him on the floor. I begin to read to him about the life and times of William Shakespeare. Nate’s eyes dart back and forth as he follows along with me. There’s no way he understands all the words, but he doesn’t ask me to stop, so I don’t. I find myself stifling a yawn by the fifth mention of his father dying of the plague, but Nate’s eyes are glued to the page, eagerly eating up the new knowledge presented before him. Once I finish this entry, he points to the one under it.

“Read,” he commands me.

I shrug my shoulders and keep reading. We spend most of the day like this. It’s kind of nice to just hang out with the boy. I’m happy as long as he’s happy.


	10. Pistachios

~Nathan Drake~

I heave a deep sigh as Sully pulls into my driveway. He turns in his seat as he twists the keys. “What’s wrong, buddy?”

“I don’t want today to be over.”

“Well, the sun has to set, but it also has to rise. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we’ll have just as much fun, okay? I promise.”

He unbuckles me and lifts me off the seat. I reach for the doorbell with no avail, so Sully boosts me up a little higher. Dad answers the door and ushers us inside. “Did you lock your car?” he asks Sully, closing the door behind us.

“No, why?”

“This isn’t a nice neighborhood. Gangs, mostly.”

“Yeah, I’ve been on call a couple of times down here. It gets rough.”

Dad nods and pulls me towards him. “Did you have a good day, son?”

“Yes, Dad.” I stand with straight posture, but my eyes are trained on the floor. I learned from the books today that some animals take direct eye contact as a threat or a challenge, and I don’t want to give him the wrong signals.

“Good.” He pats me on the head like a dog who sat at his command.

Sully extends his arm and they shake hands above my head. “I also had great day with your son. I look forward to what tomorrow brings.”

“Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me. Believe me, if I could afford daycare or had a neighbor I trusted, I wouldn't-"

“It's really no problem,” Sully assures my dad. He then turns to me, and waves, “See you later, alligator.”

“See you later, crocodile,” I return.

Sully laughs and says, “We’ll work on that tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye!” I call after him as the door slams shut.

“All right, time for bed,” Dad says leading me out of the hall. “Sam’s already in your room. I’m sure you two will have a lot to catch up on.”

I work up the nerve to ask, “Is there dinner tonight?”

“If you want dinner, you’d better cook it yourself, lazy.” His whole stature and demeanor screams exhaustion. It was his first day back to work since Mom died. I’m sure he’d have come up with a much more creative name for me than “lazy” if he’d had a few more hours of sleep. He seems docile now, but I know that any seemingly little thing could set him off. I just enter my room and close the door behind me without uttering a sound.

“Hey, Sam,” I say, dropping my bag onto my bed. “What are you—“

“Shush, I’m trying to do my homework,” he snaps, clearly irritated by my presence.

I sigh and hop under the covers. “Well, goodnight.” I turn my back to Sam and his homework. I really wish I was back at Sully’s apartment with the books and the TV and the elevator and the food and the fan and the green rug and…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second day with Sully is just like the first, except this time I know what to expect. The third is even cooler and the fourth increases exponentially from there (I read a book that explained what the tiny numbers on top of bigger numbers means). On the fifth day (Friday), Sully takes me to the park. I’ve never seen a place so green. The trees are full of leaves and the flowers are blooming. It’s a beautiful day. We make our way to the playground and I’m immediately drawn to the swings. “Want me to push you?” he asks.

I nod and sprint toward the open ones. My feet are still running as Sully lifts me into the air. I giggle as he puts my legs through the small openings, and I grab onto the chains on either side of me. I kick my feet and say, “Swing, Sully!”

He obliges and gently rocks me forward. “Is that good?”

“No, higher.” Push. “Higher.” Push. “Higher, Sully, higher!”

“Okay, okay, higher.” He finally bends his elbows and shoves me into the air.

“Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I call out in glee. I stick my arms out to the side and feel the air rush over my skin. “I’m an airplane. Vroom vroom!”

“That’s right, kiddo.” Sully catches me at the bottom of the arch and pushes me even farther into the sky.

After a few swings, I get bored and have Sully lift me out of the seat. We try the slide a few times. On the fourth time, I hear a happy sounding song off in the distance. “Hey, it’s the ice cream truck. Do you want some?” Sully asks.

“Well…” I don’t want to say yes, but I also REALLY want to say yes. Unfortunately for me, Dad says the polite thing to do when someone asks you what you want is to say “no thank you”.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like ice cream?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never really had it before.”

Sully’s eyes widen in shock. “Never had ice cream? Well, we’re gonna have to change that, don’t we?”

He takes me to the ice cream shop by the toy store that Dad never lets me and Sam go to. Sully claims it’s the best ice cream ever. He wants me to have the best experience the very first time I try it.

The woman behind the counter gives me little spoons filled with whatever I pick out. Eventually I settle on chocolate. Sully pays for the ice cream, then we sit down outside. I sigh with delight at every bite. “It’s that good, huh?” Sully laughs. I nod and dig in for another spoonful. “Want some of mine? It’s pistachio.”

I suspiciously examine the green color and eventually come to the consensus that if Sully’s eating it, it must be good. He gives me a small taste, but I quickly scrub my tongue free of the green poison with a napkin. Sully laughs again.

Walking back to the car, we pass the toy store. I raise up onto my tip-toes to peer behind the glass. It looks like jungle that can’t decide on a color scheme. Pink and purple or black and blue? I think about this on the way to Sully’s apartment while scratching my throat. The small itch grows into a raging fire as we pull into the apartment complex. My heart starts to race when I loose feeling in my tongue. Sully’s pleasant expression quickly changes to one of horror when he stops the car. “Whoa, you okay, kid?”

I try to say no, but it just comes out as a gurgle. The tear ducts start to run as it becomes harder to breathe. Sully hurriedly carries me inside and knocks on the door across from his. An old lady answers the door. “Hello, Victor. What’s—“

“No time, Mrs. Dill. I need an EpiPen.”

“Oh, I see. It’s in the first aid kit by the stove.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sully runs into her kitchen and lays me on the counter. He rifles through a red bag decorated with a white cross and pulls out a small cylinder. “Alright, hold still Nate.” I obey to an extent. My chest is still rapidly fluctuating as my lungs desperately gasp for oxygen. Before I can react, he stabs my thigh with the pointy end of the cylinder. Breathing slowly becomes easier as my throat opens up. Sully picks me up and hugs me as I cry.

I continue to cry softly into Sully’s shoulder as he talks to Mrs. Dill. Good friends really do make good neighbors. “Oh, the poor dear,” she croons. “I’ll make him some cookies. That always seems to make everything better.”

“No thank you, Mrs. Dill. We just had ice cream.”

“Well, at least take a lollypop for the road.” She opens the top drawer and picks a purple lollypop for me.

I take it from her shaking, blemished hands and politely say, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, my boy. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Nate.”

“Wow, such a handsome name for a handsome boy.” I blush as Sully helps me with the lollypop’s wrapper. “What’s he allergic to?” she asks him.

“Uh, not sure. He just started puffing up.”

“Did he eat anything out of the ordinary today?” She takes the plastic wrapper and throws it in the trash can behind her.

“No, nothing but chocolate and—oh… It must have been the pistachio ice cream, which is weird because he’s eaten other nuts before and nothing’s happened.”

“Well, I would just keep him away from all nuts just to be safe,” she advises.

“Of course. Thanks again Mrs. Dill.”

“Thanks for helping me breathe, Mrs. Dill,” I add in. I’m not just trying to be polite. Although painful, I am very grateful for her stabby thingy.

“You’re very welcome, boys. Come back and visit soon.”

“We will. Bye!” Sully waves and I follow his lead. We then travel back across the hall to his apartment and dread the end of the day in each other’s company.


	11. Power

~Samuel Drake~

Nathan and I crouch in the doorway and stare at the fridge. The plan is to wait for Dad to get another phone call. He always turns around to look out the window when he’s on the phone. It’s a weird habit of his. It takes eighteen minutes for the next phone call, but we’re ready. Nathan opens the fridge so I can get the food. We decided since I’m taller, I could reach the higher shelves. I grab two pieces of fruit and a bag of grated cheese. There’s not much else to choose from. We make it back to our room with any incidents. I close the door while Nate picks out the apple. “Hey, I get first choice ‘cause I had the harder job,” I say, snatching the apple from his hand. “You can have the orange.”

He shrugs. “That’s okay. Oranges have more juice in them anyway.”

“I changed my mind. I think I want both now.”

I try to take the orange from him, but he pulls his arm back. “That’s not fair! Now all that’s left is the cheese.”

“Well, it sucks to suck, stupid.” We play a game of keep-away with the orange. Eventually, I just tackle him and pin his chest to the ground until he submits the orange.

“You’re mean,” he grumbles, dusting himself off.

“You’re just mad Mom isn’t here to back you up. You were always her favorite.”

“Nuh-uh, she wuved us both.”

“Yeah-huh, she loved you way more. Well, it doesn’t matter now. She’s dead.” I say it to hurt him. I don’t know why, but it feels good to see him hurt. It makes me feel better about myself. I’ve started doing it at school, too. I’ve even started teaming up with the rich kid, Rafe. He pays me to intimidate and threaten the other kids. People have been avoiding my gaze in the hallways and on the playground, but I couldn’t care less. I have enough to pay money for lunch/dinner and now… they’re afraid of me. It makes me feel like I actually have some power.


	12. 4 + 3

~Nathan Drake~

I kick my feet back and forth while I sit at the table in Sully's library room. I have to stretch my neck every so often, because my nose is so close to the book. I bite the end of my pencil like Sully always does, then I underline a sentence that catches my eye.

I try to underline another sentence, but the pencil is snatched out of my hand. "Hey!" I exclaim with a frown, turning to identify the culprit.

"'Hey' is right," Sully says, holding the pencil in an accusing manner. "Why are you drawing in my books?"

"I'm not drawing, Sully. I'm underlining."

"Okay, why are you underlining my books?"

"I'm underlining the parts I want to read again."

"I..." Sully looks like he's at a loss for words. He sighs, and I catch a whiff of his breath.

"Sully, were you smoking again?"

"What?"

"Smoking is bad! Don't you see the commercials on TV?"

"Yeah, I... Hey, you're changing the conversation. We're talking about you drawing - sorry, underlining - in my books."

"Well, how am I supposed to remember all the stuff I read without reading it all again? I need to underline to remember what to read."

Sully sighs again and rubs the top of his nose. "You can write it in a notebook, kid."

"But I don't have a notebook."

"Then we'll get you one. Just... don't mark up my books, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry." I close the book laying in front of me and place my head on the table, feeling terribly guilty.

"It's okay, Nate. You didn't know. I can't blame you for not knowing."

"I don't know a lot of things. Sam calls me stupid."

I turn my head as Sully takes a seat next to me. "You're not stupid, Nate."

"But I don't know 4 + 3."

"It doesn't matter if you know 4 + 3 or 167 divided by 3 kagillion. What matters is that you want to learn. Reading all those books is a good thing. Trust me."

"Then why does Sam call me stupid?"

"He's just older. He knows more simply because he's been alive longer. The only reason he can do 4 + 3 and you can't is because someone's taught him and not you."

"Well... can you..."

"Teach you 4 + 3?" Sully asks, reading my mind. "Of course I will. I'll even teach you 5 + 3 and 6 + 3 and all their friends."

"Really?"

"Of course. Anything for you." I beam as he rustles my hair. "And you know what, Nate?"

"What?"

"You are smart. Always remember that. Don't let anyone tell you different."


	13. The Remote

~Victor Sullivan~

I take off my hat to wipe the sweat off my forehead for the fourth time in two minutes. “Nate, if I wipe my head four times in two minutes, how many times do I wipe my head per minute?”

“Um… two,” he says counting on his fingers.

“Good boy.” He’s been getting much better at math. He gets word problems and real life examples easily, but he still doesn’t understand written equations. I wipe my forehead again. God, it’s hot.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaand that’s a strike out, folks!” the enthusiastic announcer calls over the intercom. I clap for our pitcher with the rest of the crowd, but Nate just frowns.

“What happened?” he asks. I’m teaching him baseball from the nosebleeds of the college’s stadium. I didn’t realize how complicated the game really was. I’ve know the game for as long as I can remember. My dad really wanted me to play like he did, but I could never get my batting average over .200. Oh well.

“Sully?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go home now? I’m hot.”

“We can sit in the shade if you want.”

“I don’t want to!” He throws his hat on the ground. I’ve started to learn how to recognize the beginnings of a tantrum, and the alarms are going off in my head.

“Alright, sour puss, let’s go.” I pick up his hat and lead him by the hand. Nate’s really quiet on the way home. He doesn’t even react to my music. I ask him what’s wrong, but he just shakes his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Nate! Where are you? Come on, buddy, time to go home. Your dad’ll have my head if we’re late again.”

Still no answer.

“Nate, this isn’t funny!”

I hear a rustling coming from the closet. I open the door and find him hiding under my winter uniform.

“Come on.” I try to help him up, but he shakes his head vehemently.

“I can’t go home.”

“Why not?”

“I… I did something wrong.”

I know I’m not going anywhere soon, so I sit next to him on my snow boots, my broad shoulders just barely squeezing into the tight space. “What’d you do, kid?”

“The remote.”

“What’d you do to the remote?”

“I broke it.”

“How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know. It just stopped working.” He whimpers and covers his face with his arms, blocking the world out. “I’m in so much trouble.”

“Did you check the batteries?”

“Batteries?”

“Yeah, maybe they ran out of juice. We can check when we get you home.”

“But how am I going to tell Dad? He’s gonna be so mad at me.”

“We’ll tell him together. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Nate grudgingly lets me take him home. He stays behind my legs as I ring the doorbell. John answers and waves us in. “How was your day?” he asks.

“Good, right Nate?”

He grabs hold of my leg and nods. “We went to a baseball game,” he says, practically whispering.

“Sounds like fun,” John responds.

“Yes, it was,” I answer. I make Nate let go of my pant leg and hold him in place in front of me in case he tries to dart away. He tried to run as we were getting in the car. “John, Nate has something to tell you.”

He looks at Nate expectantly, and I feel Nate’s pulse start to take off. “I did something," he says, voice wobbling dangerously.

“What did you do?” John asks.

There’s no malice in his voice, but Nate apparently senses some because he starts to cry. “I didn’t mean it, Daddy, I swear! It just stopped working!”

“What stopped working?”

“The TV remote,” I say, picking up Nate. “I think the batteries might have run out.” I hold the boy to my chest and stroke his back. He wraps his arms tightly around my neck.

“That’s all?” John laughs. “You could have told me that. I’m not going to be mad about that. I would be mad if you smashed it, but it’s not your fault the batteries ran out.” He smiles reassuringly, but Nate keeps his face buried in my shirt. “Let’s go check it out.”

Sure enough, all it needed was a new pair of AA batteries. “There. All better, see?” I point the remote at the screen and flip through channels.

“You’re not in trouble, Nathan. You can stop crying now.” John tries to wipe the tears and snot off Nate’s face with a towel, but it keeps coming.

My watch dings, and I groan. Stupid night shift… “I wish I could stay, but duty calls. I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	14. The Closet

~John Drake~

As soon as the front door closes, Nate starts to wail. Damn, this kid is loud. “Nate, cut it out. You’re a little boy, not a little girl.”

But he just keeps crying.

“Nathan, stop.”

He keeps crying.

“I had a long day at work and could use some peace and quiet.”

He keeps crying.

I can feel my headache compounding. “Nate!”

He keeps crying.

I finally snap and slap him. Hard. Harder than I should have. It’s going to leave a mark, which is a problem because you can’t hide bruises on the face.

Nate stops crying for a second in shock, then howls even louder than before. A beating’s not going to work, so I pick him up and carry him kicking and screaming to the closet. I dump him in and lock the door. “You’re not coming out until you stop.” The closet door dampens his mewling. I shake my head to wipe away the guilt creeping forwards from the depths of my mind. Cassandra never had to hit or yell at the boys to get them to listen. Why can’t I?

Sam comes home from school twenty minutes later. He smiles as he enters the kitchen. “Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, son. Can you check the closet to see if Nate’s still crying?”

“Uh, okay.” He leaves and returns within a minute. “He’s sorta crying.”

“What do you mean by sorta?”

“Well, he’s still sniffling—“

“Then he’s still crying.”

“Oh.” He drops his bag and sits next to me. After a few seconds of silence, he cautiously asks, “Why is Nate in the closet?”

“He disobeyed me. He’s not coming out until he stops crying.”

“Not even to pee?”

“Not even to pee. Maybe next time you two will think twice before defying me.”

A few hours later, I send Sam to bed and stop by the closet to check on Nate. He fell asleep laying in the coats that have fallen off their hangers. They haven’t been touched since Cassandra passed six months ago. I leave Nate where he lays because I don’t want to disturb him and, honestly, I don’t have the energy. During the night, I wake to him screaming. He must be having nightmares. I lay my head back down and close my eyes.


	15. The Elevator Incident

~Nathan Drake~

I don’t sleep. When I do, I have nightmares, so I don’t sleep. Dad checks in on me once, but I pretend to be asleep so he doesn’t try to hurt me. Again.

I sit in the dark closet for the entire night. I don’t dare test the handle to check if it’s unlocked. Dad could be standing on the other side. My face still throbs where he hit me.

I think of Mom as I wait for daylight. I must have accidentally fallen asleep while thinking about her, because I wake up screaming. She would never have let Dad lock me in the closet. Sully wouldn’t have stood for it either. He would have used his kung fu to protect me. Do cops know kung fu? They must if they want to protect themselves against criminals. I’ll have to ask him tomorrow.

It isn’t until after Sam leaves for school when Dad finally opens the door. “Are you going to listen to me now?” he asks quietly.

I nod.

“Because I will not tolerate insubordinate behavior in this house. Am I clear?”

I nod.

“Good, now stand up and let me see your face.”

I comply.

“Damn, that bruise is really noticeable. Try not to let Mr. Sullivan see it.”

I nod.

“Get your things. He’ll be here any minute now.”

I nod.

I make sure the side of my face with the bruise on it is always away from Sully. I don’t know why Dad doesn’t want him to see it, but I don’t argue because I don’t want another bruise. The problem is that it doesn’t look natural keeping my face turned. The car ride is awkward. Sully asks me a question, and I have to answer while looking out the window. He must have finally caught onto my weirdness, because he asks me why I won’t look at him. I shrug while watching a flock of birds land on the telephone wires.

After he parks, he unbuckles me, then asks me to look him in the eye. I turn my head really slowly. I don’t want to disobey Dad, but I don’t want to disobey Sully either. When I’m finally looking at him dead on, he gasps. “Oh god, where’d you get that bruise, buddy?”

I shrug. Dad says I can’t tell anyone about his punishments. Not even Sully. So I keep my mouth shut. “How can you not know? It looks painful.”

I shrug and ask, “Do you know kung fu?”

“Don’t change the subject, Nate. I want to know where you got it.”

“Well, I want to know if you know kung fu.”

Sully sighs. I must be annoying him. Dad sighs when I'm annoying. “I don’t know kung fu, but I can defend myself in a fight. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then you need to answer mine.”

“Can we go inside? I’m hot.”

Sully sighs again. I must really be annoying him. “Fine.”

I run to the elevator and press up button. I love riding in the elevator. Sully says he’ll take me up to the roof when I’m older. I wonder when “older” is.

Sully stares at the wall. The elevator doors open with a ding and I sprint through them, jumping to press the 6 button. I turn around expecting Sully to follow me, but he’s still staring at the wall. He must be thinking really hard. “Sully, come on. You’re gonna miss it.”

He shakes his head and his eyes focus on me. “Okay, okay, I’m com—“ But he gets cut off by the doors which close before he can get in.

I’m alone in the elevator.

The floor starts to push me up, and I scream. I try to pry the doors open, but they won’t budge. I start to breathe faster as I move upwards. When the elevator opens on the sixth floor, Sully’s already standing there, breathing heavily. He finds me pressed into the corner, tears streaking silently down my face. “It’s okay, Nate. It’s okay.” I don’t make a sound as he hugs me and leads me off the elevator.

Mrs. Dill hears the commotion and pokes her head out her door. “What happened?” she asks, running her hand through my hair like Mom used to do.

“He just got a little spooked on the elevator. The doors closed before I could get in, so I ran up the stairs to meet him up here,” Sully explains. I stick my fingers in my mouth and step closer to him. His hand replaces Mrs. Dill’s finger-combing my hair. Tears stop leaking from my eyes.

Once we’re behind closed doors, Sully wipes my face off and apologizes multiple times for leaving me alone in the elevator. Then he asks, “Now can you tell me about your bruise?”

“I’m not allowed to.”

“Who said you’re not allowed to?”

“…Dad.”

“Your dad?” He sounds surprised.

I nod.

“Okay, how about this: you tell me how you got that bruise, and I won’t tell him you told me.”

I frantically shake my head no. If I did, Dad would eventually find out I told someone that he hurts me. He knows things like that. I tear up just thinking about what he would do to me. 

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me anything. I’ll stop asking,” Sully says, rubbing my arm.

I nod, but the tears keep coming. Fists, belts, sharp things… I heave a sob.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s okay, Nate. I’m not mad at you. Please don’t cry.”

Luckily, I’m not too far gone, so I try my hardest to pull it back. The tears stop falling, and I take a deep breath.

“Good boy,” Sully says, wiping away my stray tears with his thumb. “I’ll buy you ice cream today for being so brave, okay?”

I nod.


	16. Christmas Eve

~Samuel Drake~

“Move.” I push a girl on the sidewalk out of my way. My friends follow close behind. Well, “friends”. They’re more like Rafe’s friends. We’re on our way to the alleyway between the Laundromat and movie theater. We like to watch the high school gangs fight. Today, there’s one planed for noon, and without school getting in the way while we're on winter break, we have no excuse not to be there. We hope we get lucky, and the cops don’t show up to break it up. Dad would be pissed if he had to pick me up from the police station. Plus, it’d be really embarrassing for Sully to see me while I’m in handcuffs.

Later, I convince my friends to help me raid the grocery store for Christmas Eve dinner for me and Nathan. They all come from (semi) good families, but they’re kind enough to help me out. They also think Nathan’s adorable, which is not even close to being true, but it gets them to help me out, so whatever.

The run doesn’t end in a clean getaway, but we make it out by dodging the security guy’s big arms. He yells after us as we run for my neighborhood. By the time he calls the police, we’re already way out of his line of sight so we’re in the clear. I knock softly on the bedroom window, and Nathan lets me in. It’s like I was never gone.

We sit under my bed bundled in blankets, sharing body heat. Nathan and I don’t talk much anymore. He won’t admit it, but I think he’s scared of me.

“Where’s Dad?” I ask through a mouth full of meat and bread.

“In his room. Drunk.”

“Ah.” Work has been really demanding for him lately. Allegedly.

“Sully said he would come over tomorrow,” Nathan says, countenance brightening slightly.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

He frowns. “What’s wrong with Sully?”

“You only like him because he has money.”

“Nuh-uh. I like him because he’s a good person. He’s always nice to me.”

“Because he has money. He buys you ice cream. He takes you to baseball games. He buys you notebooks. You only like him for his money.” I take another slice of cheese for my sandwich.

“Well…” He searches for a comeback. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m what?” I narrow my eyes at him and dip my chin slightly so I’m glaring at him from under my eyebrows. Perfecting this threatening look is a requirement when working with Rafe.

“Nothing.” Nathan hurriedly drops his gaze and takes sudden interest in the sandwich held tightly in his hands.


	17. Holiday With The Family

~Nathan Drake~

Mom would have made us go to church. It’s Christmas morning. We would be celebrating the birth of baby Jesus, not sitting around the house. Or we should at least be opening presents, but I’m pretty sure Dad didn’t get us anything this year.

I look through 'Stories From Around the World' in the living room. Sam is cleaning the kitchen. Dad didn’t feel like doing it with his hangover, so he made Sam do it. I’m just trying to stay out of Dad’s way so I don’t have to mop the floors or something.

The doorbell rings and I call, “I’ll get it!” I open the door to find Sully standing there with a big bag in his hand. “Sully!”

“Nate! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas! Come inside.”

Dad rounds the corner and shakes Sully’s hand in greeting. “Hey, Victor.”

“Merry Christmas, John.”

“Sam, come say hi to Mr. Sullivan,” Dad calls.

“Can I leave the kitchen?” he asks.

“Of course. Come in the entryway, son.”

After everyone gets reacquainted, we sit around the living room. Sam sits with Dad on the couch, and I sit with Sully on the floor. “What’s in the bag?” I ask.

“Presents.” He says it so nonchalantly like he has no idea that presents are the best things ever. I even see Sam perk up a little. “I have one for both you and Sam.”

“Me?” Sam asks, obviously surprised.

“Yes, you. Here.” Sully hands him a wrapped box with Sam’s name on it. Sam takes it from his hand and just stares at it for a second.

“Come on, open it!” I exclaim. Did I mention how much I love presents?

He rips off the paper and gasps as he sees what’s inside. “No way,” he whispers.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Batman and the Batmobile. I saw this in the toy store window,” Sam says.

“I figured Superman can’t take on all the world’s baddies by himself,” Sully explains.

“Thank you,” Sam breathes, hugging the box to his chest.

“You’re very welcome. Now, one for Nate.” He hands me a wrapped gift, but it’s not a box. I wonder what it could be. I shake it, but nothing rattles. “Just open it, kiddo.”

I try to stay dignified, but I just can’t hold back. I tear into it. “It’s a book!” I squeal excitedly. “'Classic Novels for Beginners'. It has pictures and everything.”

“I figured we could read it together to help you learn to read,” Sully says. “Would you like that?”

I put the book down and throw my arms around him. “Yes, I would love that. Thank you so much, Sully.”

He laughs and hugs me back. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

Sully also brought some food with him for a brunch. Dad looks uncomfortable with Sully’s offering, but he welcomes the idea of a full stomach. Sully and I chatter like we always do, making jokes and telling stories. Sam and Dad sit in silence, looking guilty eating Sully’s food. I try not to mind them much. I want to enjoy my time with Sully and not think about my family for the holiday.


	18. First Day

~Victor Sullivan~

“Smile, buddy. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m just a phone call away, and I’m going to pick you up after school.”

“I don’t want to be by myself.”

“Then make some friends.”

Nate grabs onto my legs. “I don’t want to new friends. I want to stay with you.”

I sigh. "You have to go to school, kid. Do you want me to walk you in?” He nods. “Well, you have to let go of my legs first.”

We hold hands as we walk through the front entrance. A woman with bright red lips stands just past the doors with a bubbly smile. “Hello, is it your first day?” she asks. Her smile reveals a lipstick mark on her teeth.

Nate flinches at her words and grabs onto my legs again. “Answer her question, kid. Is it your first day?”

He doesn’t say any words, but he makes a noise similar to that of a wounded animal.

“It’s okay,” she assures me. “A lot of kids get this way. For most, it’s their first time away from their parents.”

I tune her out and couch down to Nate’s eye level. “Look at me.” He meets my gaze with blurry, tear filled eyes. “It’s gonna be okay. You are such a brave little boy. You can do this.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just know things like this. You’ll do good in school. You like to learn.”

“I’ll do well.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

“No, you said, ‘I’ll do good in school.’ Correct grammar would be, ‘I’ll do well in school.’”

Lipstick lady laughs, and I rustle his hair. “See? You’re gonna be just fine. Now, give me a hug before I leave.” He smiles and wraps his arms around my waist. His hands still don’t touch each other behind my back, but they’re getting closer. My little buddy’s growing up.


	19. A New Friend

~Nathan Drake~

“Welcome, class! How was your summer?” A hodgepodge of “good” and “awesome” float through the air. “Good, good. Now, I’ll call your names, and I want you to say ‘here’ when you hear it. Rodney Ani.”

“Here.”

“Sandra Barden.”

“Here.”

“Spencer Blaine.”

“Here.”

“Molly Camper.”

“Here.”

“Nathan Drake.”

“Here.” I say it loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be annoying. I don’t want to make a bad first impression.

After a speech about classroom rules, she hands out papers that our parents have to sign. Then she gives us a test to see how much we already know.

Most of the questions were pretty easy. Only the math questions were kind of hard. I hope I don’t fail my first test. Dad wouldn’t be very happy with me. I tried my best and that’s all Sully wants from me.

I finish my test a lot faster than most of the other kids. I have time to sit and read for a while. I’ve had it for eight months now, but I still haven’t finished 'Classic Novels for Beginners'. Sully says it’s way above my reading level, but he helps me understand it without having to read it to me. He makes me do it myself, which can be annoying at times, but it forces me to learn. When he's not there to help with the hard parts, I write my questions in my notebook so I remember what to ask.

After everyone’s done, the teacher gives us coloring sheets to do. I take my time and make sure to stay in the lines, unlike the boy sitting next to me who scribbles all over the paper. And why is he coloring the pig blue? I try not to let it bother me, but he keeps coloring the pig blue. Pigs aren’t blue. Pigs are pink. Doesn’t he know that? Finally, I can’t take it any longer. I tap him on the arm. “Pigs aren’t blue.”

“So? Why do you care?”

“Because it’s not right. Pigs are pink.”

“Well, it doesn't matter. It's just a coloring sheet.”

"But... it's not right."

"You've got to learn to let things go, dude." He drops his crayon and holds out his hand. "I'm Harry. What's your name?"

"Nate."

"This would be the part where you shake my hand," he says, wiggling his fingers.

"Oh, sorry." I take his hand and shake. "I'm not very good at meeting new people."

"That's okay. You're gonna be my new friend."

"Are-are you sure?"

"Yeah, why not. You seem nice. Besides, I don't have any friends in this class yet, and it looks like you don't either. We can help each other out."

After a moment of silence, I hesitantly ask, "So... are we friends now?"

Harry thinks for a second, then nods. "Yes. We're gonna have so much fun together. I'll come over to your house, and you'll come over to my house. We'll play together at recess..."

Harry's list goes on and on. I almost let myself worry that we'll never have enough time to do all of it, but the realization that I made a friend overshadows that. A friend! A real friend! Wait until Sam hears about this. He'll be sorry he ever said I could never make friends. Better yet, wait until Sully hears about this! He's gonna be so happy for me.

Harry's mom is earlier in the line of cars out front than Sully, so I have to wait alone for a few minutes before I see his car.

On the way back to his apartment, Sully asks, "How was your first day of school?"

"It started off kinda bad, because the teacher made us take a test and the math was kind of hard."

"Aw, I'm sorry you had a rough day, buddy. We'll keep working on the math together, okay?"

"Okay, but I didn't have a rough day at all. I made a friend."

Sully smiles and glances at me through the rear view mirror. "That's wonderful, kid. What's their name?"

"His name is Harry."

"That's a good name."

"Yeah."

"What did you and Harry get up to today?"

"We played at recess together, and we colored pigs together. Harry was being silly and colored his pig blue."

"A blue pig is very silly indeed. What did you do during recess?"

Sully's questions continue all through the car ride. It's nice to know Sully's interested in what happens at school. Dad never asks Sam about school, so I doubt he'll ask me.

I end up asking Sam to forge Dad's signature on the paper I brought home. I'm too afraid to ask Dad for an actual signature.


	20. Play Date

~Harry Flynn~

The doorbell rings, and I jump off the couch where Mom told me to sit and read. "Mommy, Mommy! Nate's here!"

"Okay, sweetie. Calm down. Let's go to the door."

I run to the door and wait patiently for Mom to unlock it. The door opens to reveal Nate and an older man with a moustache. "Hi, Nate!" I say, waving excitedly.

"Hi, Harry!" He smiles up at his dad and asks, "Can I go play with Harry now?"

His dad laughs and rustles his hair. "Go on, kid. I'll pick you up in two hours."

"But Sully, that's too short," Nate whines.

"Yeah, he can stay longer. Right, Mom?" I look up at her, pouting. I can usually get her to do whatever I want when I pout.

"He can stay as long wants," she says to Nate's dad.

"Well, thanks, but I need to get him back before 3:30 so he's not late for his math lesson."

"Can't I be late for one lesson?" Nate asks. "Please, Sully? Please, please, please?"

"I'll let you skip when you can finish your times table in under three minutes. Now, you're wasting time. Go play, I'll be back."

"Okay... Bye."

"Bye, kiddo."

Nate gives his dad a quick hug, then runs inside after me. "Follow me, I'll show you my room."

I close my door behind us, and I huff out a breath. I'm sort of winded from running up the stairs. Sort of. "Wow, I like your room, Harry. I can't believe how many toy cars you have," Nate says, looking over my collection.

"Yeah, my mom gets me a lot of cars. Once my dad and her split, she started buying me all kinds of cars. Anything I pointed at in the store, she bought me. My dad does the same, except he does it with video games."

"Your mom and dad split?"

"Yeah, they don't live together anymore."

"Why did they split?"

"Mom says they stopped loving each other."

"That's sad."

"Eh, it's not that bad. I live in both houses, so I get two of everything. They stopped loving each other, but they never stopped loving me."

"That's cool," Nate smiles.

"Yeah. Do you wanna play car chase?"

"Yeah!"

I'm always the bad guy, so I make Nate play the good guy. Whenever he's close to catching me, I pull some crazy stunt and get away just in the nick of time.

Nate's close to catching me again, when someone knocks on the window. Nate looks about ready to jump out of his skin, but I just slide the window open for my friends. "Hey, Chloe. Hey, Charlie."

"Who's this?" Chloe asks, climbing inside with Charlie close behind.

"This is Nate, my friend from school. Nate, this is Chloe and Charlie."

"Hi," Chloe says, stepping forward to shake Nate's hand. He takes her hand rather timidly and blushes.

"How's it going?" Charlie asks, shaking Nate's hand next.

"I'm... fine. How... Where..." Nate seems to be struggling with his words.

"We're his neighbors," Chloe answers with a smile. I'm glad she's being friendly. Chloe can get a little... bitchy at times. "Well, Charlie is," she corrects herself. "I don't actually live here. I'm a wanderer."

"A wanderer?" Nate asks. The crease between his eyebrows is getting deeper by the minute.

"Yeah, I don't have a home."

"Why not?"

"Well, my parents moved from England when I was very young, but they ran out of money when they got to America, so they left me on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage. The orphanage tried to foster me to families, but I kept running away, and eventually, they stopped coming after me."

"Oh, that's really sad," Nate frowns. "Even my story isn't that sad."

"What happened to you?" Charlie asks, taking a seat on my bed. I don't yell at him, however. I'm curious about Nate's life as well. He's been pretty tight lipped about it at school.

"Well... my mom shot herself three, no, four years ago and... died. Now Sully takes care of me while my dad's at work. And my dad isn't the best either."

"What's wrong with your dad?" I ask after he pauses.

"I'm not really supposed to tell anyone..."

"You can tell us. We won't snitch," Chloe promises.

"No, I'd rather not," Nate says with some finality to his words. Chloe, Charlie, and I share a look. We decide not a press him for answers.

"So the guy that brought you is your dad?" I ask.

"No, that's Sully."

"Oh, okay. What about you, Charlie?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Nate looks uncomfortable, and he's blinking a little too quickly. I need to get the attention off of him. I've been friends with him long enough to know when he's about to cry.

"Well, I don't really have a sob story. My parents are still together. I'm an only child. I don't even have a dog. I live a happy life. I feel sorry for you guys," he says, resting his head on his propped up arm.

"Yeah, we can tell you have a good life," Chloe says, trying to hide her smirk.

"Hey, it's not my fault!"

"I never said it was."

"Well, you insinuated it."

"Insinuate my ass."

"They always argue. Get used to it," I whisper to Nate. I feel like I've won something when he laughs.


	21. Sleepover

~Victor Sullivan~

“Got everything, bud?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” John’s out of town for work this weekend, so he needed someone to watch the boys. I happily accepted Nate’s request. In the five years we’ve spent together, Nate has asked multiple times to have a sleepover, but his father had always said no. Sam isn’t too happy about the whole arraignment, however. If we were in a cartoon, a storm cloud would be hovering over his head.

“Sam, you’re gonna love it. You have to take an elevator to get to his apartment,” Nate says excitedly. He would be bouncing all over the car if the seat belt weren’t restraining him.

“Cool,” Sam mutters.

“And he has a library! Isn’t that cool, Sam?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And the TV is the size of me! We measured it once and—“

“Nate, why don’t you leave your brother alone? I don’t think he wants to talk right now.”

“Oh, sorry.” Nate scoots forwards in his seat and whispers in my ear, “Do you remember when we measured the TV with me and it was bigger—”

“Yes, Nate, I remember. Now, sit back in your seat, please.”

“Okay.” His demeanor dampens a bit.

“Let’s just… have quiet time until we get to the apartment building,” I say, looking in the rearview mirror. The boys are sitting as far away as they can from each other as they possibly can, looking out their respective windows.

As soon as I put the car in park, Nate explodes, “Sully, can we get ice cream?”

“After lunch, kid. First, we have to unpack the car.”

“I wanna help!” Nate unbuckles himself and jumps out of the car. I let him take the lighter bag filled with clothes. I take the other bag filled with books and toys. Sam just crosses his arms across his chest and rolls his eyes whenever he thinks I’m looking at him. I have no idea what I did to piss him off.

Nate takes off for the elevator, but I call after him, “Wait a minute, buddy.” I look down at Sam’s sulking figure. “Do you want to push the button?”

“Why the hell would I want to that? Let Nate do it.” Is Sam allowed to say “hell”? If I ask him, he’ll know he can take advantage of my ignorance. I’ll have to let it go for now.

An old lady stands by the elevator doors. She’s already pressed the up button. “Aw,” Nate whines. “She already did it.”

“You can press the button on the inside, Nate. Sorry,” I say to the woman, pulling him next to me.

“Oh, it’s alright. I have three girls of my own. I know how it is.” She leans in as if she’s imparting a secret with me. “Enjoy it when they’re this young. It goes by so fast.”

“Right,” I smile, messing with Nate’s hair because I know it annoys him.

The woman lets Nate press her floor button to make up for the initial button pushing fiasco. Sam turns a little paler as the elevator jerks upwards. Nate pulls us out once the doors open and drags us down the hall. Once we put the bags down, Nate wants to give Sam a tour, but I stop him because Sam looks about ready to bite Nate’s head off.

We go to lunch, then get ice cream. Nate has chocolate with rainbow sprinkles, and I have a scoop of caramel. I can’t have pistachio anymore, just in case. Sam refuses to even have a taste of anything. When we get home, Nate and I play a game of crazy 8’s, but Sam sits on the couch, glaring out the window. I put on 'The Lion King', Nate’s favorite movie, later in the night. He loves to sing along with the songs and, by now, I’m sure he has all of the dialog memorized as well. I finally call Sam out when he starts mocking his brother. “Sam, leave your brother alone.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” he sneers. “You rich people think you can do whatever you want to us poor people.”

“Your father has placed me in charge of you this weekend. My bossiness has nothing to do with my or your monetary situation.”

“Oh, please. Money is the source of all evil. I learned that in school.”

“You think I’m evil?”

“I don’t think. I know. All you elitist pigs are the same.”

“Pigs? Don’t you think that’s over generalizing?”

“No, because it’s true. You think I’m dumb because I’m poor and that I have no idea you’re oppressing the lower class. Well, I’m onto you. You and your asshole cronies.”

“That’s enough,” I say sternly.

“You think you can keep my little brother as a pet and then throw him out when you get bored,” he continues. “He doesn’t get it because he’s too young, but I can see right through your façade and I won’t stand for it!”

“Sam, stop. You wouldn’t disrespect your father like this, so I expect you to have the same respect for me.”

“I don’t respect him, but I respect him more than you because he works hard for his money, unlike you who has never had to worry about starving because you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter your whole life.”

I pause the movie and give him a hard look. He had taken a breath to start another speech, but the words die on his lips. “Yes, you have it hard. Yes, it sucks to be you. I was not born into poverty and I still have both my parents, but that does not mean I have not worked hard. I used to be a Navy Seal.” Sam’s eyes widen and jaw drops. “I have seen bombs tear apart buildings, bullets tear through people, and machetes tear off limbs. I have seen war atrocities committed on nameless people and could not do anything about it. I’ve committed a few atrocities myself because it was written in the job description.” Sam looks at his hands. “So don’t say I have never had to work for anything.”

I let that sink in for a second, then Sam whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your brother. I had to pause his movie for you.”

“Sorry Nathan.”

“What’s a Wavy Seal?” Nate asks, completely ignoring Sam.

“A Navy Seal is member of the military. They go into areas of the world where war has ruined the lives of people and they try to make them feel safe,” I explain.

“They’re the bravest and coolest people on Earth, Nate!” Sam interjects. “They’re like G.I. Joe.”

“But I thought your name was Sully,” Nate frowns.

“It is,” I laugh. “Sam was just making a connection.”

“Oh, okay.” He salutes me. “Yes, sir.”

I smile and lift him into the air. Making airplane noises, I “fly” him around the room and drop him on the couch in a way I know won’t hurt him. He climbs on me, attempting to push me to the ground. “Sam, help me,” he grunts. With Nate on my back and Sam on my legs, I pretend to collapse under their superior strength. The boys pin me against the green rug and celebrate their success with a high five. While they’re distracted, I roar and grab them around the waist. They giggle as I stand up, holding them upside down. I carry them like this into the guestroom, dangling them over the bed. I flip them onto the bed so I don’t drop them on their heads, then plop down between them. Nate snuggles up beside me, placing his head between my arm and my ribs. Sam looks wary at first, but then positions himself in a similar fashion. With my arms around them, I stroke their backs soothingly until their breathing becomes even, and I know they’re asleep. I gently tuck them in and turn out the lights.


	22. I Told

~Nathan Drake~

I wake in the middle of the night, sweaty and shaking. I slip out from under the covers carefully so as not to wake Sam. Wiping my tears, I push open Sully’s door. He’s snoring. “Sully?” I whisper. I tap his arm. “Sully?”

The snoring cuts off abruptly and he opens his eyes. His muscles flex as he reaches under his pillow for something, but stops when he sees it’s me. He lets out a breath and asks, “What’s up, kid?”

“I had a bad dream.”

“A bad dream?” He rubs his eyes and sits up. Patting the bed, he says, “Jump up.” After I’m settled beneath the covers, he asks, “What was the dream about?”

I was reliving the terrible beating Dad gave me a few days ago, but I can’t say that, so I just shrug. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay. It happens to the best of us.” He rustles my hair. “Why don’t you head back to bed?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“But you were just sleeping. You had to be sleeping if you were dreaming.”

“That’s the problem. I don’t want to dream. I always have scary ones.”

“You’ve never had a good dream?”

“Well, yeah, but only when Mom was with me. Now that she’s gone, I…” I stop talking to try and keep the tears from falling.

A sad look enters Sully’s eyes. I don’t mean to guilt trip people. That’s just what always ends up happening. “It’s okay,” he whispers, taking me in under his arm. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face into his side, using his shirt to dry my tears.

I bite my lip to keep from whimpering, but it doesn’t work. “I’m sorry,” I sob. “Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Nate,” he laughs softly. “It’s okay to cry.”

I look up at him. “Really? Dad doesn’t let me.”

“He doesn’t?”

“No,” I sniffle. “He locked me in the closet once.”

Sully looks at me, alarmed. “For crying?”

Oops. I told. “Uh, I… I wasn’t…” I start to feel my heart beat faster, so I know Sully can feel it as well.

“Nate, look at me.” He takes my hands into his. “I want you to tell me why he locked you in the closet.”

“But I… I’m not supposed to.”

“Did your father tell you not to?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I want you to tell me everything he does to you, and I will make sure it never happens again.”

“Promise?”

He squeezes my hands a little when he says, “I swear.”

“Well, he locks me in the closet sometimes when he doesn’t want to see my face. He slaps me, he punches me, he kicks me, he whips me with…” My words falter as my breath catches in my throat.

Sully rubs my back and smiles encouragingly. “You’re doing great, buddy. You’re doing just fine, but I need you to keep going.”

I nod and take a deep breath. “He whips me with his belt. He pulls my hair. He doesn’t feed me. He made me stick my hands in hot water. He made me sleep outside in the cold. He sold the book Mom gave me. He calls me stupid and worthless. He tells me he doesn’t love me. He beats me, tells me he hates me, then beats me some more.” At this point, I’m crying so much, Sully can’t tell what I’m saying. He’s holding me against his heart and stroking my hair. But I keep going. I have to tell him everything. “He’s always drunk. He never plays with me. He hurts Mommy. He hurts Sam. He choked me. He yells all the time. He never lets me watch TV. He likes Sam more than me. He’s never home. He never cleans anything. He makes me clean everything. And he… he…” I look Sully straight in the eye and make sure I enunciate. “He’s not you.”

Sully looks like he doesn’t know what to say. “I… Thank you. Thank you for telling me that. That’s very personal and… I’m sorry this had to happen to you. You are the sweetest thing Earth has to offer and it had to happen to you. That is… some serious bullshit.”

I gasp. “Hey, you said—“

“Yes, yes, I know. I cussed. I’m very sorry, but it’s true. You don’t deserve it.”

“Mom says that God tests those who are strongest at heart. I guess he thinks my heart is Hercules.”

Sully laughs and kisses my forehead, just like Mom. “I love you.”

Who knew that three words, just three words, could have so much weight? They make my insides all warm. They make me smile through my tears. They make me… Oh, screw it. “I love you, too.” I stand up and kiss his forehead. “I wish you were my dad.”

“Well, I think I can make that happen.”

“How?”

“I’m going to arrest your dad and apply for custody of you and your brother. I will never ever let anyone hurt you again.”

We smile at each other for a few seconds, letting what was said marinate. Then I ask, “Do I have to go back to bed?”

“No, you stay with me. I don’t want you to think about that man ever again. You’re going to have good dreams tonight.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll scoop up all the bad dreams and keep them for myself, and I’ll leave all the good ones for you.” He pokes my stomach playfully, then I smile and poke his cheek. “Oh, you wanna go there, huh? Huh?” He grabs me around the waist and pulls me close. I giggle as he blows raspberries on my neck.

I twist around in his hands and hug him tightly. “I love you, Sully,” I say again.

“I love you, Nate.” He kisses the top of my head and rests his face in my hair. We must have fallen asleep like that, because we wake up in each other’s arms. And guess what? No nightmares!

I shake Sam awake and lead him into the kitchen. Sully makes us breakfast, but it feels like he’s taking forever. “Come on, Sully. Hurry up!” I sigh.

“Why’d you wake me up if breakfast wasn’t ready, stupid?” Sam grumbles, punching my shoulder. He doesn’t like to wake up early, especially on the weekend.

“Ow! Did you have to hit me there? You know Dad got me there yesterday.”

Sam suddenly opens his eyes all the way. “You mean Dan hit you with ball on the playground yesterday?” He glances fearfully at Sully, hoping he didn’t hear me.

Laughing, Sully hands us our plates. “It’s okay, Sam. Nate told me everything about your dad last night.”

“WHAT?” He jumps up from the table. “Oh my god, we’re DEAD! Nathan, what is your problem? Do you know what he’ll do to us? Obviously you don’t. He’s going to kill us! HE’S GOING TO KILL US!”

Sully puts his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’ve got you covered. I’m going to arrest him, and I’ll have the judge place you in my custody. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Sam still hasn’t fully processed the information. I can tell by the panicked expression on his face. Sully repeats himself twice more, talking in soft tones and crouching down to Sam’s eye level. “He can’t hurt you anymore.” Sam takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then he starts making strange choking/gasping sounds. It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s crying because I haven’t seen him cry since before Mom left. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Sully whispers, hugging him.

“Thank you,” Sam gets out between sobs.

I get off my chair and join in, making it a group-hug. Sam acts like he hates me (and everyone else), but I know on the inside he cares about me. Why else would he steal enough food for two?


	23. Reconnaissance Mission

~Samuel Drake~

Sully (he said Mr. Sullivan was too formal) drops us off at the police station for safe keeping, then heads off to arrest Dad. For the first time since Mom died, I truly feel safe. “Would you like something to drink?” a woman with a gold badge asks.

“No thank you,” I say for both me and Nathan. Dad says the polite thing to do when someone asks you what you want is to say “no thank you”. But, then again… he is currently being arrested for child abuse, so…

“Are you hungry?” she asks again.

“No, but thank you.”

“Alright, well, call if you need something.”

As soon as she’s out of ear shot, I turn to Nathan. “Let’s go on a reconnaissance mission.”

“But Sully said to stay put.”

“I know, but if we plan it right, we can scope the place out and be back before he gets back. He never has to know.”

I can see the cogs turning in his brain. “Well, okay…”

“That’s the spirit!” I punch his shoulder and he squeaks indignantly. “Oh, sorry.”

When the woman in the gold badge looks down at her computer screen, we slide out of our seats and stealthily sneak down the hall. “Do you think we’ll find any criminals?” Nathan asks.

“I hope so. It would make this mission the coolest.” I put my hand up to my face, pretending to hold a walkie-talkie. “Come in, Nathan. Over.”

Nate mimics me. “Right behind you. Over.”

“I just received orders from the boss. He wants us to scope out the station. Over.”

“Copy that. Over.”

We slide along the wall and slip into the first doorway we come across. It looks like someone’s office. There are files lying on the desk labeled “DUI”. All it contains are names and dates. “Nothing suspicious here. How ‘bout you, Nathan? Over.”

“Negative, Sam. Over.”

“Okay, moving on. Over.”

The next few offices either have people in them or nothing interesting. One file had a bunch of pictures of a naked girl. “Ewwwww!” Nathan and I said at the same time. One room had a box of donuts just lying out in the open. I wanted to take one, but Nathan made such a big fuss about stealing, so I just left them. Another room had a window you could look through from the hallway, but the other side was a mirror!

We sneak into the room with a ruler painted onto the wall. We were having a competition to see who could jump higher, when the doorknob jiggles. I pull Nathan under the table with me as the door swings open. A cop and a guy in handcuffs enter. “A criminal!” I whisper to Nathan excitedly.

“He’s bleeding,” Nathan says.

“Shush, you’re so loud.”

“No, you shush!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!”

I push Nathan, he pushes back, and so on and so forth. The table squeaks as Nathan shoves me into one of its legs. I step on his foot and he jumps, hitting his head on the top of the table. Nathan lunges and lands on top of me. I would have kicked him if the police officer hadn’t grabbed us and pulled us to our feet. “What do we have here?” he asks, gripping our arms tightly.

“We’re here with Victor Sullivan,” I respond, lifting my chin high.

“Oh, you’re those kids he’s taken such a special interest in. How’d you find yourselves in here?”

Nathan and I exchange a look. “We were, uh…”

“Lost!” Nathan exclaims. “We were lost.”

“Lost? Under the table?” The cop looks skeptical. Neither of us say anything. We know it’s over. “Let’s get you boys back to the lobby before Sullivan gets back and freaks out that you’re missing.” The woman by the computer must not have looked up from the screen the whole time we were gone, because she looks surprised when the cop sits us in our seats. “Keep a close eye on these two. They’re troublemakers.”

“But we didn’t even do anything,” I protest.

The cop and the woman smile knowingly at each other. “Sure you didn’t.”

“We didn’t! Right, Nathan?”

“Yeah, we were just exploring,” he says.

“Wait here until Sullivan gets back. Maybe he’ll give you a tour.” The cop gives us one more look, then heads back to the ruler room.

Nathan elbows me in the ribs. “Thanks a lot, genius. Now we’re in trouble.” He slouches in his chair and crosses his arms. “What’s Sully gonna think?”

“Oh, please, what’s he gonna do? Beat us?”

“No, but we don’t want him to hate us.”

As if on cue, the front doors slide open and Sully walks in. “Hey kiddos. You okay?”

“Yes, Sully,” Nathan and I say in unison.

“Good, good. Come with me. You’re gonna hang out in my office for a while.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because… you’ll be more comfortable in there.” He takes our hands and leads us down the hallway. I wave at the cop who caught us in the ruler room as he passes us. Sully opens the door to the room with the naked girl’s file. “Alright, here we are. Now, you two stay here. I have to do something real quick. I’ll be back soon.”

He turns to leave, but Nathan calls, “Sully?”

“Yes, Nate?” He stands in the doorway looking slightly annoyed.

“Why do you have pictures of a naked girl?” he asks. I stifle a giggle. Naked girls…

“What? How did you—“

“We went on a reconnaissance mission and we saw what was in the folder.”

“I’m sorry, bud, but let’s talk about this when I get back, okay?”

With a dejected pout, Nathan mutters, “Okay.”

“Alright, see you in a few.” We watch him walk out without so much as a backwards glance.

“Was it something I said?” Nathan mumbles, looking at his hands.


	24. The Confrontation

~Victor Sullivan~

My hands ball into fists looking through the one-way mirror at Nate’s father. He slouches in his chair, hands covering his face, but the act doesn’t fool me. “…Under the table. It was a real inconvenience, ya know,” the voice next to me fades back in.

“I’m sorry, Ron, I wasn’t listening.” He was telling me how the boys were causing trouble around the station today. Wasn’t Nate talking about some “mission” they were on? I’ll have to have a chat to them after this.

Ron sighs. “Maybe you shouldn’t be the one to confront this guy, Sullivan. You obviously have strong feelings for those boys and it might cause you to—“

“No, I’ve got this.” I pat him on the shoulder and open the door. John looks up and straightens his spine. I try to keep a neutral demeanor as I sit across from him. “So, Mr. Drake, you have been arrested on charges of child abuse.” I then read him his Miranda Rights again. “Do you have any questions?”

“Are they going to take the boys from me?”

He grasps the arms of his chair desperately, but I stare him dead in the eye and say, “I don’t know, but I damn well hope they do.”

I stand up slowly, metal chair legs squeaking against the floor. John grabs onto my arm as I turn around. “Please,” he begs, “please, help me.”

“Why should I help you?” I growl.

“They… they’re all I have left of her. I can’t lose them.”

“Well, you should have thought of that before you decided to use them as your own personal punching bags.”

“That’s not true. I did it to make them stronger. I did it for them.”

“For them? No, I know your type. You feel you have no power over your own life, work, or money, so to make yourself feel better, you abuse the only things you have control over: your children. It’s disgusting.” I slam the door on him.

Ron stares at me, mouth agape in shock. “Damn. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

I barely register his comment. Anger pulses through my veins. I need to get away from people before I punch someone, namely John. “Excuse me.” I push past Ron and lock myself in a bathroom stall. After using some breathing exercises my therapist once taught me, I head back to check on John. I watch for a few minutes through the one way mirror as he talks to the court assigned lawyer, then head back to Nate and Sam. I knock on the door and poke my head in. “Hey guys. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Nate says, laying on the ground.

“I’m bored,” Sam whines, spinning in my wheely chair.

“Well, good news, we’re leaving now,” I smile, turning my computer screen off.

“But the other police guy said you would give us a tour,” Nate frowns.

“You want a tour?”

“Yeah!” they both exclaim.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” I laugh. “I didn’t realize you two were so into this.”

“When I grow up, I want to be just like you,” Nate says. “A cop and a Wavy Seal.”

I put a hand on his head and mess with his hair, then lead both boys out of the room. I show them the lobby, the mug shot room, the holding cell, and the firing range. I make sure to steer clear of the interrogation room where their father is.

On the way home, they both fall asleep. I guess their little minds have had too much excitement for one day. I stifle a giggle watching them zombie walk to the apartment and into bed. I sleep without interruption tonight. They must be too tired for dreams.


	25. Testimonials

~Nathan Drake~

I sit next to Sully in the hallway of the court building. Today, Sam and I are going to be interviewed by the judge. Sully says not to worry because I’m not the one in trouble. Dad is. Sam’s with the judge right now. I’m next. Sully rests his hand on my hand to keep me calm. He knows talking to strangers isn’t my strong suit. He already asked if he could be present during the interview, but they said no because he could have an influence on my answers.

The door opens, and Sam walks out looking a bit grim. Sully stands with me and says, “I’ll be right out here to see you when you’re done. You’re gonna do great, kiddo. Up top.” He holds up his hand, and I hit it. “Down low.” I hit his hand again and prepare myself for the next one. Sully makes it tricky. “Side blow.” I go as fast as I can, but I don’t make it.

“Too slow!” we say together. 

“Alright, go get ‘em, tiger,” he says, messing with my hair.

The judge shakes my hand by the door and ushers me into the room. “Hello Nathan. I’m Judge Scala, but you can just call me Judge. Would you like something to drink?” He closes the door behind me.

“No thank you, Mr. Judge.”

“Okay, you can have a seat here.” I obey and sit. He must be important with a name like Judge. It would be in my best interest to follow his directions. “So, you’re 7 years old?”

“No, I’m 8. I just had my birthday last week.”

“8, huh? That’s exciting. You’re a big boy now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, Sully took me to the roof and we watched the stars. I thought I saw a wishing star, but he said it was just an airplane.”

“You really like this Sully character, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh, he’s my best friend.”

Mr. Judge laughs and looks down at his papers. “Nathan, how do you feel about lying?”

“Lying is a sin. That’s what Mom always says.”

“Uh, mother, mother…” He quickly shifts through his folder, searching for something. “Oh, here we go. It says here that your mother died a few years ago. There was evidence on the body that she may have been mistreated. Do you know anything about this?”

Talking about Mom is always hard. Sully said there may be some hard questions, but I need to answer them the best I can. “I remember hearing Dad yell at her and some glass breaking. I think… Um…” I screw my face up trying to think of more details, but none come to mind.

“It’s okay if you can’t think of anything else. It happened a long time ago. Now, the lawyers took some picture of your bruises and scars. Can you confirm that these are yours?”

He pushes a paper clipped stack of pictures across the table to me. “Yeah.”

“Could you explain how you got each one?”

“Okay, well this one I got from his fist.”

“Could you specify whose fist?”

“My dad’s. Then these ones I got from the belt. This scar is from when Dad hit me and his ring cut my face. This bruise is from Zach. And this one is from—“

“Who’s Zach?”

“He’s a kid from school. He’s not very nice to me.”

“Okay, continue.”

I talk about my injuries for a few more minutes then he asks me, “Can you tell me what this means to you?” He holds up a belt. But not just any belt. The belt.

I freeze up. “Mr. Judge, I…” I start taking in faster breaths. “…I can’t…”

“Just tell me what it is, Nathan.”

“D-Dad’s b—“ That stupid whining noise starts in my throat again. I really don’t want to cry in front of Mr. Judge. I’ve been trying to cut down the number of people I cry in front of. That’s why Zach is mean to me. He calls me a crybaby and makes fun of me. The tears are already streaming down my face. Then come the sniffles. Then comes the snot. Mr. Judge is talking, but I can’t hear him over the sound of my heart beat ringing in my ears. I cover my ears to block out the world. I think I’m screaming, but I can’t tell.

When the world comes back into focus, I’m cradled in Sully’s arms. He’s talking to Mr. Judge about me. Sully’s attention goes to me as he feels my head moving against his chest. “You okay, Nate?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, son,” Mr. Judge says. “It’s not your fault. You seem to have developed some sort of PTSD from the abuse you received from your father. I don’t blame you for freaking out about the belt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nathan, I just said it’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mr. Judge looks like he wants to say something, but Sully shakes his head. “We know you’re sorry, kid. It’s gonna be okay,” he says.

“Okay, Sully. Did I do a good job?”

“Of course you did, kiddo. Of course.”


	26. Transferred

~Victor Sullivan~

“If you need anything, ask Mrs. Dill. I won’t answer my phone in the field. I’ll call you when I’m on my way home.” I pin on my badge. I just got a call about a lead on the Jane Hallings case (or as the boys like to call it: the naked girl case). I have to act quickly or the lead could get away. “Alright, I’m leaving.” I pause and turn around to look at them. They’re standing around the table in the kitchen. “Are you two gonna be okay on your own?”

“Yes, Sully,” Sam rolls his eyes.

“Are you sure-“

“Yes,” they both say.

“Okay, okay, I’m gone.” Before I close the door, I tell them, “Stay safe.”

I’ve had the boys for a week now. Their father was whisked away in handcuffs after Nate’s breakdown. In that time, I’ve gotten another bed, so Sam and Nate could sleep separately. Nate hasn’t been beaten in about a month, but he’s just started wetting the bed. The poor thing… It’s like he’s so used to living in fear that the lack of having anything to fear is causing him to panic.

I get to the station and am led to the forensics lab. They got a blood sample match or something. I swipe my ID and open the door. A woman in a lab coat turns at the sound of the door and smiles. “Hi, Officer Sullivan, I’m Liliana Franklin.” We shake hands. “You can call me Lili.”

“Victor. Are you new?”

“Yeah, I transferred from downtown.”

“Downtown? Damn, that must have been fun. Why’d you come here?”

“My, uh, father thought it was too dangerous for me to work there.”

“In forensics?”

“That’s what I said!” She sighs. “I can’t really complain, though. He’s a little over protective, but I guess that’s a good thing.” She shakes her head. “Anyway… Sorry about that. Back to Hallings. The blood samples aren’t a perfect match and there’s no hair samples, but the fingerprints match. The others don’t want to do anything unless they’re sure, but I learned from working downtown that you have to trust your gut. And my gut says this is it.”

I nod and blink my thoughts away. She’s absolutely gorgeous. “Well, I trust your gut. Where do you think she is?”

“Here.” She points to a dot on the map pulled up on the computer monitor.

“Alright, looks good to me. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

“Well, probably considering we work at the same station now.”

Duh. She’s so smart. “Okay, I’ll see you later.” I close the door behind me, silently cursing myself for sounding like an idiot. Ugh…


	27. Home Alone

~Nathan Drake~

As soon as Sully closes the door, Sam gathers his knapsack from under the couch. “I’m going out,” he says.

“What?”

“Cover for me when he gets back.”

“Wh- No, I’m not doing that. Where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“I won’t cover for you if you don’t tell me where you’re going.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You will because I’ll beat the shit out of you if you don’t.” I don't say anything after that. I sit quietly with my hands folded in my lap. He waits until he sees Sully’s car pull out. Once he’s gone, Sam leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I’m left alone. And it’s not like I can go hang out with Mrs. Dill. She’ll ask me where Sam is.

So I read. Sully got me a boxed set of all seven Harry Potter books after Dad went to prison. The books we read in school are too easy for me now, so my teacher asked Sully to give me more challenging books to read at home. Sully started showing up to parent-teacher conferences instead of Dad about three years ago, so she figured Sully was more invested in my academic career than Dad.

The first book is pretty short, so I flew through it in just a few days. Now I’m reading the second one. Right around the part with the giant spider, I yawn and put the book down.

It’s 11:00 and Sam’s not back yet. What am I going to do? Sam’s my brother. Would he really beat me up? Even if he did, Sully would put a stop to it immediately. I just wish they would both come home. I don’t like being alone. Every sound sounds like someone is trying to break in and hurt me.

I’m still alone with my thoughts half an hour later when the phone rings. It’s Sully. My chest floods with relief. “Hi Sully.”

“Is this Nate?”

“Yeah.”

“You and Sam okay?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?” he laughs. “You don’t know so?”

“Well… not really.”

“Why?”

“Um, Sam’s… not here.”

“What?! Where is he?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

He sounds angry. I instinctively start to shake. My lip quivers with my next words. “He said… He said he would beat me up.” I start to sniffle. “I’m sorry, Sully. I didn’t want-“

“Nate, it’s okay, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m not mad at you. I’m on my way home. We’ll talk when I get back. Hang tight, buddy.”

I put the phone down and wipe my eyes. He’s not mad. It’s okay. He’s not mad. Sam’s going to be mad at me, but Sully will protect me.

Ten minutes later, Sully gets home and runs up the stairs to make sure I’m alright. “How are we going to find Sam?” I ask as he tucks me into bed.

“I’ll wait up until he gets home. You get some sleep.”

“Could you not tell him I sold him out?”

“Of course, kiddo. I won’t tell. And don’t stay up worrying about him. He’ll be back.” I nod, then Sully bends down to kiss me on the forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	28. Broken

~Samuel Drake~

I look down the hall both ways before sticking my key in the lock. Sully’s car is still gone, but one of the neighbors could spot me. The door swings open and I jump. “How did you-“

“I hid my car around back,” Sully says from the dinner table. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows furrowed. “Where were you?”

I put my hands on my hips and jut my chin out defiantly. “Out.”

Sully blinks slowly. “Answer me, Sam. I won’t ask twice.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re not my dad,” I spit, walking past him to my and Nathan’s room.

He gets up and blocks my path. “No, I’m not your father, but that doesn’t give you the right to walk away from me.” I cross my arms and dramatically roll my eyes. “You are 13 years old, young man. Those high schoolers will tear you apart if you’re not careful.” I try not to show my surprise, but he notices my eyebrows twitch. “That’s right, I know you hang out with those gangs. Now, you listen to me. Gangs are bad news. I don’t ever want to catch you sneaking out again. I wouldn’t want to arrest my own son.”

I grit my teeth and glare at him. “I am NOT your son. I’m not anyone’s son. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“That’s not how this works, Sam. You live under my roof, you follow my rules. That’s it. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts. Got it?”

I sneer and knock him out of the way. “Yeah, whatever, bossman.”

Sully grabs my arm and pulls me back. “No, not ‘whatever’. You don’t respect me. Fine. But at least think about your brother. While you were out having fun, you left Nate by himself. You have a responsibility to look after him.”

“Oh, I should have known this was all about your precious, little Nate. It’s always about Nate. If I died, you would care more about finding a black tie for Nate than my misspelled name on the tombstone.”

“Sam, that’s not fair. You know how he is. He’s… broken.”

“Well, maybe I’m broken, too!”

There’s a heavy silence. I can see it in his eyes that he’s at loss for words, so I slam the door on him. Nathan flinches under the covers and whimpers, “Sam…?”

“You ratted me out, jackass.” I hit him with my bag.

“Ow! Stop it!”

“You’re my brother! You’re supposed to have my back!” I abandon my bag and start using my fists. “YOU! SON! OF! A! BITCH!”

“SULLY! HELP ME!”

I punch Nathan in the nose and blood begins to spurt everywhere. “You’re WORTHLESS and I HATE YOU!” I scream.

Sully bursts through the door and grabs me around the waist. “Sam, cut it out!” He throws me on my bed. “Leave him alone! If you’re upset with me, take it out on me, not your brother!”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Nathan sobs. “I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean to b-betray you.”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, kid. It’s okay.” Sully picks Nathan up in his arms and cradles him close. “Sam didn’t mean it. He’s just mad at me. You didn’t do anything wrong, buddy.” But Nathan continues to cry. He’s screaming his lungs out while Sully pinches his nose shut to stop the blood. “How ‘bout you sleep with me tonight, huh? Would that make you feel better?”

“Mm hm,” he sniffles.

“Okay, here we go.” Sully gives me a look as he leaves the room. “We’ll talk in the morning,” he says.

The door slams, rattling my bones. I swallow hard, holding back tears. All I can think about how much like Dad I am, hurting my family for nothing they did. I didn’t even want to hurt Nathan, but I did anyway. I stuff my face into my pillow and sob. I hate myself. I’m a terrible person. Like Dad.

I hate myself.


	29. Family

~Victor Sullivan~

I wake early, but I let Nate sleep in. I remove the toilet paper plugs from his nostrils. The sun leaks through the blinds, so I draw them tighter. Sam’s eating cereal at the counter. He doesn’t look up when my shadow lands over his food. “Is Nathan awake?” he asks quietly.

“No, but I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to talk about you.”

“Sully, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I just… I don’t know, I just got frustrated and angry and… I-I really didn’t mean to do it.”

“But you did do it. I don’t want to punish you, Sam, but I’m going to have to ground you. I don’t want you associating with those kids after school or in the dead of night.”

Sam nods looking at his hands. “Can I talk to Nathan now?”

“I don’t know how excited he’ll be to see you, bud.”

“But I need to tell him I’m sorry. Can I please go talk to him?”

“Wait for him to wake up on his own. He had trouble sleeping last night.”

“Okay…” He gets up and starts dragging his feet to his room. I feel bad. I know he’s just frustrated. I need to find an outlet for him soon or he’s going to do something really stupid.

I poke my head into my room to check on Nate. He hasn’t moved an inch, but his eyes are open. “Hey, kiddo. You feeling okay?” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even react to me climbing onto the bed to sit next to him. “Talk to me, Nate,” I say softly, running my fingers through his hair. I know something’s wrong when he pulls away and burrows his head under the pillow. “Nate? Come on, it’s me. It’s Sully. You can tell me anything.”

“No…” he groans.

“No what?”

“No, I can’t tell you anything. You won’t get it. You’ve never had your entire family turn their back on you, hating you for existing.” He uncovers his head and looks me in the eye through a veil of tears. “This is the world I know. Sully’s world is the world you know. You couldn’t possibly understand my world just like couldn’t possibly understand Sully’s world.”

“True, I don’t know what that feels like, but you also don’t know what that feels like. Now, I can’t speak for your mother or father, but I can speak for your brother. He loves you, Nate. He loves you every bit as much as you love him. He just has trouble showing it.”

“Like punching me in the face?”

“No, like not caring if he’s grounded for punching you in the face, as long as he can apologize for it.” Nate drops his gaze, mulling over my words. “And Nate, family has nothing to do with relatives. Family are the people who love you.”

“Like you?”

My heart swells pushing the corners of my mouth up. “Yes, like me Nate. I love you and Sam more than anything in this world. And I know Sam loves you just as much. So why don’t you go talk to him and let this whole thing blow over, huh?”

Nate smiles and nods. “I will.” He scoots to the edge of my bed and drops to the floor. I watch the door open then close. I lean my head against the wall and sigh. Family…


	30. We Knew

~Harry Flynn~

"Ah, Chloe!" Charlie groans. "Quit stealing my fries."

"Yeah, yeah, quit your whining," she says, rolling her eyes. She takes a few more and passes them to Nate, knowing he wants a few too but won't steal them himself. He's such a goodie-goodie.

The four of sit outside the McDonald's that's closest to the mall. Nate is being oddly quiet today. He smiles and laughs but barely contributes to the conversation, even though he looks like he wants to say something. I'll have to draw it out of him.

"So you've been quiet, Nate," I say, nudging his shoulder.

Nate looks startled. "What, me?"

"Yeah, you. What's going on in that big head of yours?"

"Nothing's going on in my mind."

"Yeah, we've seen your grades, man," Charlie laughs. "We know you've got nothing going up there, trust me."

"Shut up," Nate says, blushing yet smirking.

"Come on, you know you can tell us anything," I press again.

"There's nothing going on, I swear!"

"Tell us, tell us, tell us," I chant, waving to the others to join.

"Tell us, tell us, tell us," we all chant, banging on the table.

"Okay, okay!" Nate yells, glancing around. "You can stop now. People are looking."

"Get on with it then!" Chloe exclaims.

"Alright..." Nate takes a deep breath. "I've recently been... adopted."

"Adopted?!" I ask excitedly. "That's awesome, Nate."

"Yeah, Sam and I are living with Sully now. It's, um... it's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm on top of the world right now." He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair.

"That's really amazing, Nate," Charlie smiles. "What happened to your dad?"

"Well... You know how Sully's a cop? He arrested my dad and took custody of us."

"Why'd he get arrested?" I ask, popping another one of Charlie's fries in my mouth but he doesn't seem to care that much anymore.

"Um... Remember how I said my dad wasn't a good person?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he... hit me. A lot. Like all the time. He practically threatened to kill me if I ever told anyone, but I finally worked up the courage to tell Sully. And now... I'm free. For the first time ever, I'm free. And it's... the best thing ever."

"We're so happy for you, Nate. I'm glad you've found your family," Chloe says with a huge smile.

Nate beams and checks his watch. "Thanks guys. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. It's hard to talk about it."

"Don't worry, we knew about the whole thing," Charlie says. "Well, except the part about you being adopted. That was news to us."

Chloe and I both shoot him a nasty look. "Dude, we weren't going to tell him that," I hiss.

"What? You guys knew about what my dad did?" Nate asks, looking bewildered.

"Yeah, man. Those bruises don't just appear out of nowhere," Charlie explains, backing away from the intensity of our stares.

Nate's ripped from his train of thought as someone honks from the parking lot. "Oh, that's Sully."

"More math lessons?" Chloe asks, still glaring at Charlie.

"No, Sully does like me out of sight for long," he says, standing from the table. "I'll see you guys later."

"Bye Nate," the three us of us chorus.

He waves then hurries to Sully's waiting car. He all exhale when he's gone. "I'm happy for the bloke," Charlie says, taking his fries back from my fingers. "No more excuses and lies about falling down the stairs or tripping over the neighbor's dog on the way to school."

"Yeah, he's with a better family now," I sigh, smiling to myself. I hated seeing Nate all bruised and cut up. I couldn't do anything about, though. Who would have believed me? I'm glad he's in safe hands now.


	31. Two Years Later...

~Victor Sullivan~

“So then the guy says, ‘Don’t knock on Death’s door, ring the doorbell and run. He hates that!’” Then she laughs loudly like she does at all of her own jokes.

I finally took Lili's advice and have put myself back out in the dating market. Things have been going really well with the boys getting adjusted to normal life, so I decided was high time to do something for myself for once. Just... maybe not with this woman.

I smile at her then say, “Excuse me, my phone is ringing.” It’s the sitter’s number. Fear automatically grabs my heart. Something’s wrong. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”

“That’s alright, go ahead.”

I turn away and press the green "answer call" button. “Is everything okay?”

“Sir, I didn’t know Nate was allergic to pistachios, and I fed him trail mix with some in it, and he started swelling up and choking, so I took him to the hospital and now-“

“Okay, take a breath. That’s my fault I didn’t tell you. I’ll be over there in few minutes.”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, Jennah. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, thank you. Please hurry, if you can.”

“I will. Goodbye.” I hang up and reach for my coat. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. My son is having an allergic reaction.”

“Son?” she asks, spitting out her champagne.

“Yes, I actually have two.”

“Two children? Who else are you hiding from me?”

“No one. I adopted them.”

“Well, okay. I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Uh, yeah. See you around.”

I give the valet a generous tip to hurry him along. As soon as I’m behind the wheel, I step on the gas. Breathless, I ask the man at the front desk of the emergency room where Nate is. He tells me Nate’s in surgery right now, but he would be back in a few minutes. Jennah and Sam are out in the family waiting room. When I get there, Sam looks stiff as a board, and the sitter is close to hysterics. I throw an arm around Sam and try to reassure the sitter. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. I completely forgot to tell you.”

“He didn’t tell me either,” she whispers, hugging herself. “He was the one who asked if he could have some, even after he read that there were pistachios in the bag.”

“Really? Weird…” I frown. He knows he’s allergic, and he knows how to read. Something isn’t checking out.

“Are you the family of Mr. Nathan Drake?” a nurse asks us.

“Yes, is he okay?” I say frantically. I've tried to keep my demeanor calm, but the anxiety has finally bubbled over.

“He’s okay, sir. We would like someone familiar to be there when he wakes up. We don’t want him freaking out.”

“Sam and I’ll come. You can go, if you want,” I tell the sitter.

“Okay,” she nods, wiping her eyes. “I’ll call you when I get home to check in on Nate.”

I agree and follow the nurse, Sam trailing behind me. Nate has an oxygen tube in his nose and sleeping soundly. “The doctors gave him some anesthetic during the surgery,” the nurse says. “He’ll be up in a little while.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking a seat next to his bed. Sam takes a seat on the chair furthest from Nate. He looks nervous. “It’s okay, kid. Nate’s fine.”

Sam nods. “I know. I just don’t like the plastic smell and all the needles and stuff.” He shudders. “I hope I never have to come to a hospital again.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be out of here soon,” I say, amused.

Next to me, Nate groans and shifts in the bed. He opens his eyes and jumps up startled. I put a hand on his chest and gently press him down. “Whoa, take it easy there, tiger. The drugs are still wearing off.”

“Drugs?”

“Yeah, they put you under for surgery.”

“But drugs are bad.”

“Yes, but these ones are okay. We forgive you.” He’s very disoriented. It’s kind of funny, actually.

Nate lifts his arm and stares blankly at the tubes hanging out of his arm. “Am I a robot?” he asks in horror.

“No, those are just IVs, bud. Don’t pull on them.” I move his arm so he doesn’t rip the needle out of his arm. “There you go. Those are good for you, don’t touch.”

“Okay, Sully.” The nurse walks back in with a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff. “Is that your girlfriend?” Nate asks, looking very upset.

“No, that’s the nurse. And I don’t think there’s going to be a second date with my ‘girlfriend’.”

Nate nods approvingly. “Good.”

I frown as the nurse asks him to breathe deeply. “Why is that good?”

“’Cause I don’t want a new mommy.” The blood pressure cuff seems mildly annoying to him, but he doesn’t pull away or throw punches.

Suddenly the pieces click together in my mind. Wow, he’s a little, evil mastermind. “Did you eat the pistachios on purpose to get me to leave my date?” I ask, taking his hand.

“I don’t know,” he mutters.

“Nate, tell me the truth.” I want him to tell me before the drugs completely wear off.

“Fine…” he sighs. “I did it because it was the only way to keep you from falling in love with that woman. I didn’t like her.”

“Okay, we need to have a little talk. Sam, you too.” He stands up and cautiously walks towards us. He keeps his distance from the bed. The tubes and machines must be making him nervous. “I’m going to be dating. You're just going to have to get used to it. I would like to find myself a wife, but that doesn’t mean I’m trying to replace your mother. Now, if things get serious between us, I’ll make sure she checks out with you two before things go any further. If you don’t like her, just tell me. No more triggering deadly allergic reactions just to draw me away, okay Nate?”

He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Okay Sully.”

“Good. Now, in this case, I’m grateful for the little diversion. That woman…” I roll my eyes and shake my head. The boys laugh at my expense (which I’m totally okay with), then I rub my knuckles over both of their heads.


	32. Bunnies and Rabbits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took forever to update. Life happens, you know?
> 
> Thanks for reading!

~Nathan Drake~

It's another one of those lazy summer days where there's nothing to do. Sully granted me the freedom to hang out at Harry's place for the day. Unfortunately, Harry had to leave for his aunt's house an hour ago.

Now it's just me and Chloe hanging out on his front lawn. We're laying in the grass side by side, gazing up at the clouds. I shift slightly and lift my arm to point at the sky. "That one looks like a bunny."

Chloe laughs and flips her head towards me. "A bunny? Really? How old are you?"

"Okay, what would you say it looks like?"

"Um, I would have to say... a rabbit."

"Copy cat."

"Nuh-uh. I said rabbit, not bunny."

"They're the same thing!"

"Except that nobody says bunny if they're over the age of 6."

"Whatever. I'm bringing it back."

"Heh, sure."

We fall back into a comfortable silence, happy just laying next to each other. After a few minutes, Chloe rolls over to face me. She gives me a coy smile, making my stomach clench. Why? I'm not sure.

"Um, hi," I say... because I don't know what else to say.

"Hi," she says back, rolling her eyes. "You know, ever since we first met... I've known you were different."

"Different how?"

"You have a different way of seeing the world. Even after everything with your dad, you have a optimistic outlook on life. I wish I could be like that."

"Oh. Do... you like different?"

"I love different."

She starts to lean closer and closer, eyes closed, lips pursed. I lean back and ask, "What are you doing?"

"Kissing you."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause you're cute."

"But-"

I don't get the words out of my mouth in time. She presses her lips against mine, slowly drawing me closer. It feels... good. Slimy and gross, but good. So I don't pull away. Even though I know I should.

What I was trying to tell her before she silenced me was that Harry is going to hate me. He's had eyes for Chloe since the day we met. If he finds out I kissed her, he would- 

"Nate?!"

I quickly untangle myself from Chloe's arms and stand to apologize. But I'm cut off once again.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Harry shouts. It seems he just got home from his aunt's. Convenient, huh?

"Harry, I didn't-"

"Didn't what? I saw you. You trying to steal my girl?"

"Your girl?" Chloe huffs, still on the ground. She's the picture of calm. "Since when am I 'your girl'? You've never even complimented me once."

"Well, no, but Nate knew I was gonna ask you out eventually. And yet he kissed you anyway. You disgust me, Nate. I thought we were friends."

"We are!" I exclaim, finally getting a word in. "SHE kissed me! I didn't have anything to do with it."

"You weren't making any effort to stop her."

"Well, I... What was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know... Stop kissing her?"

"But I-"

"Look, Harry," Chloe interjects. "I initiated everything. Don't blame Nate. You two are best friends. Please don't fight over this."

"I don't know how I can be friends with him anymore. He obviously doesn't care about me."

"Harry..." I plead. I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes. I can't lose Harry. I just can't.

"I don't want to be your friend anymore," he says, crossing his arms and turning away. "You betrayed me."

I sniffle, rubbing my nose. "Okay. I'm sorry, Harry."

Sully picks me up an hour later at Charlie's house next door. Chloe sat with me until he arrived, awkwardly holding my hand. It's obvious she wanted to kiss me again, but I didn't even make eye contact with her.

I tell Sully what happened on the car ride back. He assures me that this will all blow over soon and that I shouldn't worry about it. And even if it doesn't work out between me and Harry, I have other friends like Charlie and Sam.

Later that night at home, I'm laying on the couch with my head on Sully's lap. He's running his hand through my hair, attention split between the TV show and me. "It'll be okay, kid," Sully murmurs. "I promise."

"But how do you know?" I ask.

"I just do. And hey, even if it doesn't work out between you and Harry, you've got me, right?"

"Yeah," I sigh.

He rustles my hair. "That's the spirit." He bends down and kisses my right temple. "Love you, Nate."

"I love you too, Sully."


	33. Gangsters

~Samuel Drake~

"Hey, Samuel!" yells someone from down the hall. Well, not someone. Rafe. He's the only one who calls me by my full name.

I begrudgingly stop in my tracks and wait for Rafe to catch up. I've been trying to avoid him recently. Sully's been getting on me about cleaning up my act. But that's easier said than done. All my gangster buddies aren't getting my hints. They keep offering me jobs or inviting me to fights, and it's getting increasingly difficult to come up with excuses.

"Hey, Rafe. What's up?" I ask once we're moving again.

"I was just wondering if there's anything going on with you. You've been awfully... reserved lately."

"Nah, I've just been busy."

"With what?"

"Um, helping my little brother with his big science project."

"Ah, yes," Rafe chuckles. "The baby Drake. How's he been?"

"He's great. He's just not all that good at science."

"And you are?"

"Well... comparatively."

"Uh-huh." He doesn't sound all that convinced. "I hear he hangs with a certain Flynn character."

"Flynn?"

"Yes, Harry Flynn. You know, from Zach's crew?" he clarifies.

"Oh, yeah! He talks about Harry all the time. They're best friends."

Rafe frowns. "I thought you said your brother wasn't in the business."

"I did say that, and I continue to stand by that statement," I add, uncomfortable with where the conversation has turned. I hate talking about Nathan with the gang, especially it's rich-as-fuck leader with some not-so-secret anger issues.

"Well if that's the case, why is he hanging with Zach's crew?"

"He's not. He just happens to be friends with one of them."

Rafe stops suddenly, pressing on my shoulder so I face him. With dangerous eyes, he says, "I don't believe in coincidences."

I swallow hard and respond with, "Look, I swear to you that Nathan has nothing to do with Zach."

"You sure? 'Cause to me, it looks suspiciously like Zach's number two is recruiting my number two's little brother. And where one Drake goes..." He doesn't finish his statement. He just bores holes into my head with his eyes.

I quickly shake my head no. "I would never leave your gang, Rafe. I would never dare betray your trust."

"Good. I'll be keeping an eye on that brother of yours, Samuel. I would highly recommend you nudging him away from this friend of his. I wouldn't want baby Nate to caught up in all this... violence."

I angrily tighten my grip my books. "Is that a threat?"

"That's up to you. It depends how much you value his life."

And with that, Rafe disappears into the crowd.

The rest of the day my mind is occupied with Rafe's stupid threat. Everyone knows not to mess with Sam Drake's kid brother. I'd made sure that was common knowledge ever since the start. The one person who could get away with it is the asshole who's threatening him.

Nathan's already home when the bus drops me off. Sully's been taking the day shifts lately to fill in for a coworker on maternity leave, so it's no surprise he's not home yet. "Hey, Sam!" calls Nathan from down the hall.

"Hey, little brother," I yell back. I drop the apartment keys in the bowl on the counter and make my way to our room. "How was school?" I ask, rustling his hair as I pass.

"Eh, same old, same old. How 'bout you?"

"Nothing special."

Our relationship has mended spectacularly since Sully took us in. Now we actually talk instead of simply sharing the same room. I messed up while we were with Dad. Nathan needed a friend, someone to look up to, and simply someone to talk to. I was selfish, using Nathan as my outlet when it should have been the other way around.

"Nathan, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Uh, you know Harry?"

"Yeah..." The ever-present spark in his eye is suddenly extinguished. His smile drops to a frown.

Concerned about the completely un-Nathan-like behavior, I ask, "Did something happen?"

"Yeah," he says again. "We... We're not friends anymore."

"Oh, I had no idea. I'm sorry, buddy."

"No, it's okay. I talked with Sully about it already. He said it'll work itself out."

"Right, right..." I say, thinking hard. "When did this happen?"

"Like two days ago."

"Okay. So... I heard some interesting things about Harry today."

"Like what?"

"Like... he's involved in gang related activity."

Nathan frowns in genuine confusion. "Gangs? I don't know about that."

"Trust me, Nathan. He's pretty high up with Zach's crew. You want to stay as far away from them as possible. They ain't people you want to mess with."

"Ain't ain't a word, Sam."

"Okay, fine. They AREN'T people you want mess with. Happy now?"

"Yes. You need to work on your grammar."

"That's not what this is about. I don't want you hanging with Harry anymore. You hear me?"

"Well-"

"No wells, no buts. Do you hear me?"

"Yes. I really don't think it's going to be a problem, though. The girl he likes kissed me."

"Ha ha ha, you stole his girl? That's what this is all about?" I laugh.

"Yeah," he says, cracking a smile.

"There's no question that we're related, little brother."


	34. Another Two Years Later...

~Nathan Drake~

Sully and I cheer for Sam as he plows through two kids on the other team and tackles the guy holding the ball. “And that’s another sack for Samuel Drake!” the announcer proclaims, then takes a swig from his root beer. The bottle just says 'beer', but Sully says the 'root' is implied.

I’m not quite sure what a “sack” is, but it sounds like a good thing from the way the crowd is reacting. When our side cheers and the other side boos, that means we did something good. Sam and Sully have been trying to teach me the game at home, but there’s just so many rules. That’s why I chose soccer.

Sully said we should try to get involved at school, so Sam tried out for the football team and I tried out for the soccer team. We both made it and have been playing for two years now. It was a good way to make friends after the Harry incident.

Sully makes us go to each other’s games. Sam thinks soccer is boring, and he doesn’t say it but I know Sully thinks the same way. But I love it, and I’m glad they come to my games. I hate watching football. It’s just two lines of people pushing each other until the whistle blows for some reason. Every once and a while, somebody will run the ball all the way in for a touchdown and the cheerleaders throw candy into the crowd, but even that’s gotten dull.

After the game, Sam practically skips to the car. “And did you see me intercept that pass? It was like 'whoosh' and I was like 'boom' and the quarterback was like 'what'?”

“Yeah, you did great, kid,” Sully smiles. “Keep this up, and you’ll have a scholarship to Notre Dame in no time.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. Now, come on. I’m starving.”

“Me too!” I exclaim.

“Me three!” Sam says, claiming the passenger seat.

Once we’re all buckled in, Sully turns on the car and his cassette tape starts playing bad 70’s music. “Noooooooo…” Sam and I groan together.

Sam reaches for the entertainment console and turns it to his favorite radio station: Rock and Roll One O’ Four. “Sam, switch it,” I plead, scooting forward in my seat to reach the buttons. “Change it to the pop station.”

He snorts. “Pop? What are you, a teenage girl?”

“You got half of that right.”

“The girl part?”

“No, the teenage part, you ass.”

“Ha ha, you walked right into that one. Plus, you’re not a teenager. You’re twelve.”

“That’s a teenage year!”

“Nuh-uh, it doesn’t have the suffix –teen, therefore twelve is not a teenage year.”

“Oh, please…”

“You know I’m right, snot face.”

“Butt muncher.”

“Dick weasel.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sully butts in. “Watch your language, Sam. You know I don’t like that word.”

“Yeah, Sam, language,” I say with a cocky smile. “Someone’s been hanging out with their gangster friends a bit too much lately.”

Sam turns around in his seat and gives me a death glare. “Shut up,” he growls through clenched teeth.

Surprisingly, Sully gives no reaction. I was hoping he would scold Sam about gangs again, because Sam’s started sneaking out again and I can’t dissuade him from leaving. The problem is, I also don’t want Sam to hate me for tattling on him. He says all he does is meet up with friends and hang out, but I’ve seen him come back with cuts and bruises multiple times. I don’t want my brother to end up dead from something I could have prevented. 

We end up listening to rock and eating at one of the many non-franchise sports bars on the way home. We want to catch the baseball game, and the Buffalo Wild Wings is too far from the school. Baseball the only sport all three of us can enjoy together. Sam gets a half-pound bacon cheese burger and a chocolate milkshake. Andy orders a mushroom swiss burger with a Coke. I still eat off of the kid’s menu because I’m so small, so I get a mini cheese burger and a small Coke. If I’m still hungry, Sully says I could have some of his fries.

“So boys, what do you think about this place for a first date?” Sully asks.

“Depends on how uptight she is,” Sam says.

“If she’s uptight, she’ll think you’re some cheap loser,” I add in.

“Well, what if she’s a good friend and already knows I’m not some cheap loser?” Sully wonders, rubbing his chin.

“Then here is fine, but if you really wanted to impress her, you could take her to Longhorn’s. That way she knows you’re not trying to show off your fat wallet, but you’re not a fast food junkie,” I reason.

“Nice, bro.” Sam and I bump fists.

“Wow, it seems you’ve done some serious thinking about this,” Sully says, leaning back in his chair so that the front two legs are off the floor. “Who’s the girl?” he asks with a smirk.

My face immediately flushes. Damn it… “There’s no girl,” I say quickly. Too quickly.

Sam gasps and his eyes glint mischievously. “Nathan's got a cru-ush,” he sings mockingly.

“No, I don’t, jerk wad.”

"Lemme guess. Chloe?"

"No! That was never actually a thing! I don't have a crush!"

“Does this mystery girl know yet?” Sully asks.

“I’ll bet she doesn’t ‘cause she still thinks he has cooties,” Sam giggles.

My cheeks darken at their laughter. “Guys, stop.”

“Stop now?” Sam asks, incredulously. “No way, José. This is too good.”

“Alright, lay off your brother. It’s not as if you haven’t had your fair share of flings,” Sully says, coming to my rescue.

“Yeah, whatever happened to Crystal?” I flutter my eyelashes and pucker my lips.

“Ah, come on,” Sam sighs. “How come he gets off so easily? I got teased for months after mentioning I liked-“

“Sarah,” Sully and I say in unison. Sarah was an exchange student from Quebec, but everyone thought she was French because she had a French accent. Anyone from France is automatically cool. Unfortunately, she went home before Sam could ever work up the nerve to say hello to her.

“Well, who’s your girl?” Sam asks Sully, desperate to draw attention away from himself.

“Lili,” he answers with a huge smile. “We’ve been working together for four years, and I think I’m finally gonna ask her out.”

“So you finally grew a pair, huh?” Sam says.

Sully shrugs as the waiter brings our drinks. “Don’t I know it,” he mutters.


End file.
